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New pieces that will take
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New Pieces That
Will Take Prizes In
Speaking Contests
COMPILED AND ADAPTED
BY
Harriet Blackstonc
Instructor in th? Art of Sneaking- and Dramatic Art,
Galesburg High. School,
Galesburg, III.
COPYRIGHT, irgox, >i\>>{iiNDsi&
Hinds, Noble & Eldredg-e, Publishers
31-33-35 West 1 5th Street - - New York City.
THE NEW YOKK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
5789
ASTO*. LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATION!,
for your library
The Worth of Words (Bell) ....
How to Study Literature (Heydrick)
A Brief Outline of the Books I Have Read
How Nature Study Should Be Taught (Bigelow)
Nature Study Lessons (Crawford)
Lessons on Manners — Morals (Dewey)
Character (Varnum) ......
The Man Who Pleases and the Woman Who Charms
Who's Who in Mythology .... *-,.
Who's Who in History ......
Seeley's The Foundations of Education
Seeley's A New School Management ...
Gordy's A Broader Elementary Education
The 20th Century Educational Problems
The Science of Study (Moore) ...
Cook's Psychology (A Simplified Exposition)
Stout's The Groundwork of Psychology
Stout's Manual of Psychology ....
Mackenzie's Manual of Ethics ....
How to Become Quick at Figures ....
A Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms
Common Errors in Writing and Speaking
A, B, C of EIec,tricjty , ,.,.,,,„,,.,
Fifty' P)'ofjt^bte Gcciipatidns. -
«' • •' HWdS, 'NOBLE &
*1 -33-35 W«l'./;/.s->- . 233
CONTENTS
TITLE AUTHOR PAGE
Mistress Sherwood's Victory . . Eva L. Ogden . . . 240
The Angel and the Shepherds . Lew Wallace .... 248
The King of Boyville .... William Allen White . 253
Nominating General Grant . . Roscoe Conkling . . . 261
The Governor's Last Levee . . Sara Beaumont Kennedy 267
Joam Dacosta Jules Verne .... 277
Grandma Keeler Gets Grandpa Kee-
ler Ready for Sunday School . Sally Pratt McLean . 286
Bob Henry W. Grady . . 292
The Fiddle Told Nora C. Franklin . . 299
Winners by Their Own Lengths . Ralph Connor . . . 307
How the Church Was Built at Ke-
hoe's Bar John Bennett . . . 313
"Boots " Adapted 319
The Prisoner's Plea Adapted 326
The Equinoctial Storm . . . . F. Hopkinson Smith . . 334
Gordon's Reprieve Adapted 344
The Hero of the Day Adapted 352
The Wooing of Miss Woppit . . Eugene Field . . . 360
The Stirring Up of Billy Williams Harry Stillwell Edwards 370
The Sheriff's Honor Harriet Blackstone . 377
President McKinley's Last Address Abridged 385
NEW 1MECES
FOR
PRIZE SPEAKING
CONTESTS.
The Honor of the Woods.
ADAPTED.
Our hero, John Norton, the old trapper, is an ideal woods-
man, and his companion whom he calls " the lad" is a
character hardly less remarkable than the old man himself.
When our story opens, we find the two friends about to
take part in a great boat race to be rowed on the lower Sara-
nac, which is to be the event of the season, and which has
attracted not only the oarsmen of the wilderness but even
professionals from New York.
John Norton is a famous oarsman, and the lad, who has
also wonderful ability at the oars, has shrunk from com-
petition with one who has been to him a father ; and,
although the trapper has persuaded him to enter the race, the
youth now firmly resolves not to put forth his utmost effort
unless it is to save the honor of the woods.
IT was hicrh noon on the Saranac and a
o
brighter day was never seen. The sky was so
intensely blue" that it fairly gleamed. All was
expectation, for a great crowd had gathered in
I
2 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
anticipation of the races, and the thought that
they were to see the celebrated trapper and
scout of whom they had read and heard so much,
stirred them with the feeling of intense curiosity.
Indeed, two parties had already sprung up.
In the crowd were several aged men who could
well remember the great fame which the old
trapper had had as an oarsman fifty years before,
when they and he were young ; and the con-
victions of these old men were well expressed in
the strong assertion of one of their number who
closed a heated verbal contest with : " I tell ye,
sir, there ain't a man on God's airth who can beat
John Norton at the oars."
On the other hand, the professionals who were
to row had their advocates. Fine, spruce college
boys, " doing the woods ; ' English tourists,
strong-built and burly fellows, affecting the heavy
sportsman's style ; quiet city gentlemen, whose
knowledge of boating was limited to the news-
paper accounts of the annual race between Yale
and Harvard.
Thus stood the feeling and the crowd when
the boat with the lad at the oars and the trapper
at the paddle came into view.
Nothing could exceed the fineness of the
tribute paid to the fame of the old trapper, for
as the boat approached, the talking ceased, and
a stillness more impressive by far than the
loudest cheering greeted the old man. He was
THE HONOR OF Till: WOODS. 3
bareheaded as usual, and the full exposure of his
countenance and forehead showed the noble
majesty of a face to which years had given a
characterization and dignity that was truly im-
posing.
The boat came nearly to a pause within fifty
feet of the landing, when suddenly an old white-
haired man, who had been gazing fixedly at the
trapper, flourished his stick and shouted with a
voice that trembled with the intensity of his
emotion, "John Norton! He saved my life at
the battle of Salt Licks forty years ago : three
cheers for John Norton !
Then a cheer arose which burst the stillness
into fragments and, thrice repeated, rolled its
roar across the lake. Then for the first time did
the old trapper realize the honor which by voice
and silence alike was being shown him. For an
instant the color came and went in his face and
a gleam as of firelight came into his eyes. He
arose and stood at utmost height, erect as a pine,
stood for a moment with a grace that a trained
courtier might have envied. Then he settled to
his seat and the boat approached the landing.
The free-for-all was to be pulled at one o'clock.
The entries stood six in all ; three professionals,
a forest guide known as Fred, the trapper and
the lad.
It was now five minutes of one o'clock and the
boats were already in position. The course was
4 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
straight down the lake to a line of buoys and
was just four miles — two out and two back.
" Now, Fred," said the trapper, speaking to
the young guide on his right, "ye must remember
that a four-mile race be a good deal of a pull,
and the goin' off ain't half so decidin' as the
comin in. Now I don't see that we kin afford to
waste any time even the first half mile, fer them
perfessionals hev come here to row, and they look
to me as if they had a good deal o' that sort o'
work in 'em. Still, if ye don't think ye be pull-
in' fast enough, take your own lick, fer I wouldn't
spile yer chances o' wallopin' them perfessionals
to-day fer all the money on earth.?
" Do you think we shall win, old trapper?'
said Fred.
"I dunno, I dunno, boy. I sartinly dunno.
I like yer build but I don't like yer oars, especially
that left one, fer there's a kink in the shank of it
that hadn't orter be there, and I fear the pesky
thing'll play a trick on ye at the finish."
" Yours' are big enough to hold, anyway, and I
hope to heaven you'll win."
"Thank ye, boy, thank ye. Yis, I sartinly
shall try, fer it would be a mortal shame to hev
the prize go out of the woods. If nothin' gives
way, I'll give 'em a touch of the stuff that's in me
ferthe last half mile that'll make 'em git down
to their work in earnest. But if anything does
happen and we can't do it, I have great hopes of
THE HONOR OF THE WOODS. 5
the lad here, fer his gifts at the oars be \vondcr-
ful. He can beat us both but Ills spirit is agin'
it ; he thinks it would tickle an old man's vanity
to win the race, so he won't half try. But if he'd
only pull like I seed him pull the day afore
yesterday, he'll-
" Read}' tin-re !' said the sharp, clear voice of
the starter, " Ready there for the word."
" Now, lad," said the trapper hoarsely, " don't
ye fergit yer promise, and if anything happens
or ye see I can't win and I give ye the word, John
Norton'll never fergive ye if ye don't pull like a
sinner runnin' from the judgment."
" Ready there, all of you. One, two, three,
Go ! ' The oars of the three professionals
dropped into the water as if their blades were
controlled by one man, but the guide and the
trapper, being in heavier boats, were at least a
full length behind before they had fairly got into
motion. Their stroke was long, steads', and to
the lookers-on, leisurely pulled.
The lad was the last to get off and so careh
and ungainly was his appearance and so little
snap did he evince, that the crowd who cheered
the passage of the others laughed and groaned
and roared as he swung along. For forty rods
the race continued without any change in the
relative positions of the six boats. A prettier
sight than the three leading boats presented
never gladdened a boatman's heart or stirred the
0 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
gazer's blood. The oars flashed, dropped, and
flashed again, as the oarsmen swept their blades
ahead as if regulated by machinery.
Some rods behind, the trapper and Fred were
pulling side by side and stroke for stroke, long,
strong, and steady.
" I tell ye, Fred," said the old man to the
young guide by his side, " them perfessionals
hev got their match in ye fer quickness if I'm
any judge. Yis, yis, boy, I understand ye, but
don't ye worry ; it's a long pull and a strong
back that's goin' to win this race ; but if ye be
nervous we'll lengthen out a leetle, just to show
'em that we ain't more than half asleep. Come,
lad," called the trapper to his comrade astern,
" hist along a leetle faster, fer we be goin' to let
out a link or two." So saying the old man set
his comrade a stroke so long and sharply pulled
that the two boats were even in a moment end
to end with the boats ahead.
There was a roar of astonishment and wild de-
light from the spectators. The spurt revealed
the tremendous power of the trapper. The old
men in the crowd were nearly beside themselves
as they saw him rush his boat ahead. They
swung their hats, they shook each other's hands,
they actually wept, while the old fellow, who had
repeated it at least twenty times before, again
asserted, " I tell ye, there ain't a man on God's
airth can beat John Norton at the oars."
/•///•: //t>.\'OA' o/-' /'//A WOODS. 7
Thus tlu- boats rushed on their \vay each head-
ing as straight toward its appointed course ;«s a
bullet could fly, while the multitude, now far
astern, watched with eager eyes and bated
breath the receding race.
At last a man with stentorian lungs, who stood
on the ridge of the boathouse, shouted, " They
have turned the buoys! they have turned the
buoys ! The professionals are ahead ! '
" How far behind is John Norton ? " said the
man on the wharf.
" He and Fred are four rods astern at least,"
bellowed the man in reply.
" Where's the lad ? "
" Oh ! He's out of the race, full five rods be-
hind the trapper and Fred ! ' By this time the
boats were plain to view, and the stillness which
had settled on the cro\vd was absolutely oppres-
sive, for the contestants \vere barely a mile away.
" Now, Fred," said the trapper, " the time has
sartinly come fer us to show the grit that's in us.
Be ye ready fer the stroke ? Long and quick,
i "
noii' !
The young man obeyed the trapper to a frac-
tion. He threw the full force of his enormous
strength for which he was noted into his stroke.
The cords of his large neck stood out like ropes ;
his nostrils dilated ; his face fairly sharpened
for the effort ; but the sudden vigor of his stroke
was too much for the wood. The miserable oar
8 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
to which the trapper had alluded parted with a
crash. The boat careened, swayed, swooped
suddenly aside, and the young man, unable to
recover his balance, fell headlong into the lake.
The trapper was now thoroughly roused. The
boats were within a hundred rods of the home
line and the lad full ten astern. The roar of the
crowd was deafening. The professionals were
pulling grittily. The old man's eyes fairly
gleamed. Through the roar of the multitude,
who were literally frantic with excitement, his
ear caught the voice, " John Norton, now is your
The old man gathered himself for a supreme
effort. His blood was up and the lion in him
fairly roused.
Never before was such a stroke pulled and
never before was such a catastrophe. The blades
were too broad and strong to yield ; the boat
was too heavy to get away quickly enough ; his
oars too strong to part at the stroke ; his tre-
mendous effort tore the rowlocks from the gun-
wales as if they had been made of paper and the
old man measured his length in the bottom of the
boat.
The catastrophe was so sudden and so unex-
pected in its character that it hushed the roar of
the multitude as if an awful visitation had terri-
fied them into silence. Even the professionals
intermitted a stroke and the lad turned his face
nil-: HONOR oi' /•///•: WOODS.
about. The old man had risen and was standing
erect in his boat still holding the huge oars in his
mighty hands. His eyes (lamed and his face
\vas bloodless with unutterable rage; he shook
the heavy oars in the air as if they had been
reeds, and shouted with a voice that shook the
air like the roar of the desert lion challenging
combat : " Lad, now pull for John Norton's sake
and save his gray hairs from shame. Pull with
every ounce of strength that God Almighty give
ye or the honor of the woods be gone."
It seemed as if the strength of the trapper,
through the medium of his awful appeal, had
actually been imparted to the lad. His head
got suddenly erect upon his shoulders, his body
straightened as if fashioned into perfect symmetry.
His stroke lengthened to the full reach of oar
and arm. The oars bent like whipsticks. The
Hash of the blades in the recovery was so quick
that the eye barely caught the gleam. His boat
sprang, flew, flashed, and as it jumped past the
trapper, the old man again suddenly shook his
oars and shouted, " Go it, lad : the honor of the
woods is on ye. Ye'll beat 'em yit, sure as
judgment day ! '
Except the voice of the trapper, not a sound
was heard ; the feeling was too intense.
One of the professionals threw the oars ; the
others pulled in grim desperation ; their faces
white as chalk but grit to the last. They pulled
IO NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
but pulled in vain, for the boat caught them
within fifty feet of the landing and shot across
half a length in front.
The race was over and the " honor of the
woods " was saved.
The Inmate of the Dungeon.
W. C. MORROW.
Adapted from " The Ape, The Idiot, and Other Stories,"
published by J. B. Lippincott Company.
Used by special permission of the author and publishers.
THE Board of State Prison Directors was sit-
ting in session at the prison. The chairman — a
nervous, energetic man — glanced at a slip of
paper in his hand and said to the warden :
" Send a guard for convict No. 14,208."
The warden bowed stiffly and directed a guard
to produce the convict. He was a tall, fine-look-
ing man, well-bred and intelligent. Though or-
dinarily cool, he was unable to conceal a strong
emotion, which looked much like fear.
The convict shambled in painfully and labori-
ously, as with a string he held up from the floor
the heavy iron ball which was chained to his
ankles.
There had been no time to prepare him for
/•///. L\MATK OS- THE DUNGEON. II
presentation to the Board. The dingy suit of
prison stripes which covered his gaunt frame was
frayed and tattered ; his hair had not been re-
cently cut to the prison fashion, and, being re-
bellious, stood out from his head like bristles ;
and his beard, which, like his hair, was heavily
dashed with gray, had not been shaved f»»r
weeks. His forehead was massive, his head of
fine proportions, his jaw square and strong, and
his thin, high nose showed 'races of an ancestry
that must have made a mark in the world at
some time in history.
Upon stumbling weakly into the room, faint
with the labor of walking, he dropped the ball,
which struck the floor with a loud sound, and his
long, bony fingers tore at the striped shirt over
his breast. A groan escaped him, and he would
have sunk to the floor had not the guard caught
him and held him upright. In a moment it was
over, and then, collapsing with exhaustion, he
sank into a chair.
The chairman turned sharply to the guard.
" Why did you manacle this man," he demanded,
" when he is evidently so weak, and when none
of the others were manacled ? '
" Why, sir," stammered the guard, " surely
you know who this man is ; he is the most dan-
gerous and desperate-
" We know all about that. Remove his man-
acles.'
12 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
The guard obeyed. The chairman in a kindly
manner said, " Do you know who we are ? "
" No."
" We are the State Prison Directors. We have
heard of your case and we want you to tell us
the whole truth about it."
" I suppose you want me to make a complaint.
I've no complaint to make." The chairman
rose, passed around an intervening table, went
up to the convict and laid a hand on his gaunt
shoulder.
" I know," said he, " that you are a patient
and uncomplaining man, or we should have heard
from you long ago. There are fifteen human
beings in this prison, and they are under the
absolute control of one man. If a serious wrong
is practised upon one, it may be upon others. I
ask you in the name of common humanity to put
us in the way of working justice in this prison.
Speak out, therefore, like a man, and have no
fear of anything."
The convict was touched. " There is nothing
in this world that I fear. I will tell you all
about it.
" I was sent up for twenty years for killing a
man. I hadn't been a criminal, but he had
robbed me and wronged me. I came here thir-
o
teen years ago. I worked faithfully, sir ; I did
everything they told me to do. I did so well
that my credits piled up and after I had been
77//1 1 \MATE 01' THE DL'.\G l:ON. 13
here ten years I cmikl see my way out. I
wanted to be a free man again, and I planned to
away somewhere and make the fight all over,
-to be a man in the world once more.
" Then my trouble began. You know they
were doing some heavy work in the quarries and
on the grades, and they wanted the strongest
men in the prison. And I was one of 'em that
they put on the heavy work. They used to pay
the men for extra work, — not pay 'em money,
but the value of the money in tobacco, extra
clothes, and things like that. On Saturdays the
men who had done extra work would fall in and
go up to the captain of the guard, and he would
give to each man what was coming to him.
" One Saturday I fell in line with the others.
A good many were ahead of me in the line, and
when they got what they wanted they fell into a
new line waiting to be marched to the cells.
\\Tien my turn came I went up to the captain
and said I would take mine in tobacco. He
looked at me pretty sharply, and said, ' How did
you get back in that line ? You've had your
extra ; you got tobacco.' I said I hadn't got
my extra, and hadn't been up before. He said,
4 Don't spoil your record by trying to steal a
little tobacco. Fall in.' .... It hurt me, sir.
I wasn't a thief and no living man had a right to
call me a thief. I said to him, straight, ' I won't
fall in till I the hour that that hideous
and deadly, national cancer \vas extirpated by the
bloody Surgeon of war, the banners of justice-
were borne aloft and carried forward, oftentimes
amid storms of obloquy, derision and hatred, by
the heroic and lion-hearted — by men who could
not sit down in quiet unconcern, with the cry of
4,000,000 of bondmen going up by day and by
night, into the ears of a just God.
Only lofty natures, great hearts, heroic souls,
were obedient to the " heavenly vision " of liberty,
or attended to the command, sounding out of the
depths of heaven : " Let my people go." But
for them, no Lincoln would have been president-
no Decree of Emancipation would have been
promulgated — no determined stand against slav-
ery or its extension, would have been taken, and
to-day that monstrous iniquity would have been
fatally intrenched in all the nascent empire states
of the West.
Wedded to science, to the discovery of the
" thought of God in nature," that incomparable
Christian philosopher, Agassiz, " had not time to
make money," and so he moved on earth, grand,
unique, solitary, yet not alone, for he walked
with God and held converse with the invisible
forces of the universe, and became the reverent
interpreter of the solemn hieroglyphics of the
Eternal Mind, and bequeathed to the students
of America the richest heritage and the noblest
24 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
inspiration ever left by scientist to the human
race. His life was heroic, consecrated to the
development of a sublime conception. He was
not a student of history, for that his nobler mis-
sion was to make history.
So it was with the men who pioneered the
great agitation that culminated in the awful con-
flagration of 1861-65 — . They lived for a truth,
and that truth transfigured them — they moved in
and with the currents of providence — in the
Sublime Sweep of the eternal plans in human
history, and so were steadfast and strong. No
more heroic period has there been in our history,
than that covered by the three decades of moral
conflict and battle that preceded the upheaval and
whirlwind of '61.
And when that tremendous tragedy began, and
days of defeat and darkness and despair drew on,
and strong men grew pale and it seemed as if the
starry ensign of the Republic were going to the
dust, and the black flag of slavery and treason
were to mount in triumph to the upper air, and
men's hearts were failing them for fear, and the
cry of our distress and agony was heard on all the
coasts of the earth, and the voice of compromise
began to be heard, and the bells of history
seemed ready to strike the final hour of the Great
Republic — for such was the gulf that yawned
beneath our feet in the closing months of '62-
then it was that heroism, stunned yet immortal,
HEROISM AXn HISTORY. 25
sprang to the nation's side again, re-formed her
shattered columns, re-enforced her depleted ranks,
re-kindled the sinking fires <»!' enthusiasm, and,
with an eloquence and devotion and sacrifice that
the world beheld witli amazement and a\\ v,
snatched " victory from the jaws of defeat, '
and brought the conflict to a glorious conclusion.
r~>
So it is ever, when the pulses of moral and
spiritual life, individual or national, are feeble, and
the tides of noble feeling are low, and the reign
of the sordid and selfish, of the mean and narrow,
is over all, then is the hour of heroism then is
the time for the apostleship of the great in faith,
of the great in heart, who alone can re-inspire and
quicken the millions on whom has come an eclipse
of faith, a paralysis of lofty thought and feeliiu;.
So were all the ages of history.
This heroic spirit is the highest and grandest
thing purely human, and in its sublimest mani-
festations it is not purely human, but takes on
elements that are of heaven — forms that blend
with the eternal and the divine.
It is a demonstration of the sublime truth that
the ideal in man is higher and greater than the
r^ *>
actual — an irrepressible and perpetual monition
of immortality. That this is true, no man or
woman who ever caught a glimpse or felt a stir-
ring of the higher life — of the ineffable exaltation
of souls transfigured by the glory of God and of
truth, will deny.
26 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Strong feeling, intense emotion, kindled by
such ideas, are something as far above the sordid,
the consciously calculating selfishness of common
life, as the fresh mountain air is above the malaria
of swamps and dungeon-damps. It takes men
out of and above themselves — it refines and clari-
fies and broadens their mental and spiritual
vision — it shows them something of the ineffable
and the everlasting — it brings them into the
circle of the Eternal and all-glorious forces that
hold sway in God's moral and historic realm — it
shows them the celestial columns of Jehovah, as
they march and counter-march to do His will
among the children of men and the nations of the
earth.
The Shepherd's Trophy.
ALFRED OLLIVANT.
Adapted from " Bob, Son of Battle." Used by permis-
sion of the publishers Doubleday £ McClure Co.
The scene is laid in the north of England. The contest -
for the celebrated silver cup, The Shepherd's Trophy, to be
won by the shepherd and his dog, who, in the shortest time,
could drive three sheep over a difficult path and into a pen.
In the north, every one who has heard of Muir Pike has
heard of the gray dogs of Kenmuir ; every one who has
heard of the Shepherd's Trophy knows of their fame.
In that country of good dogs and jealous masters,
pride of place has long been held unchallenged. The
THE S1IKI '///•; A7/.S' TROPHY. -7
(".ray I )i»-s always lead tin- van, and there is a saying in
the laiul. " Faithful as the Mo<>res and their tykes." And
James Moore, the present owner of Kenmuir, is one of the
truest men in all the line.
TllE Cup day broke calm and beautiful, no
cloud on the horizon, no threat of storm in the
air; a fitting day on which the Shepherd's
Trophy must be won outright.
And well it was so. For never since the
founding of the Dale Trials had such a concourse
o
been gathered together on the north bank of the
r"> O
Silver Lea. From the Highlands they came ;
from the far Campbell country; from the Peak;
from the county of many acres; from all along
the silver fringes of the Solway ; assembling in
that quiet corner of the earth to see the famous
Gray Dog <>f Kenmuir fight his last great battle
for the Shepherd's Trophy.
On the far side of the stream is clustered about
the starting Hag the finest array of sheep-dogs
ever seen together.
There beside the tall form of his master,
stands Owd Bob o' Kenmuir, the observed of all.
His silver brush fans the air, and he holds his
dark head high as he scans his challengers,
proudly conscious that to-day will make or mar
his fame. Below him, the mean-looking,
smooth-coated black dog is the unbeaten Pip,
winner of the renowned Cambrian stakes at
Llangollen — as ma nr think the best.
o *•
28 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
And alone, his back to the others, stands a
little, bowed conspicuous figure — Adam Mc-
Adam ; while the great dog beside him, a hide-
ous incarnation of scowling defiance, is Red
Wullie, the Terror o' the Border.
Adam McAdam, the little Scotsman, had been
the tenant of the Grange these many years.
With his shriveled body and weakly legs, he
looked, among the sturdy, straight-limbed sons
of the hill country, like some brown wrinkled
leaf holding its place amidst a galaxy of green.
And as he differed from them physically, so he
did morally. His sharp, ill tongue was rarely
still, and always bitter. There was hardly a
man in the land from Langholm Haw to the
market-cross in Grammoch town, but had known
its sting and endured it in silence and was nurs-
ing his resentment till a day should bring that
chance which always comes. "When he's drunk-
he's wilent, and when he bain't he's wicious,"
said Tammas Thornton once, a speech greeted
by gratifying applause!
The course ran up the slope ; round a flag ;
down the hill again; along the hillside; down
through the two flags ; turn ; and to the stream
again. The pen was over the bridge, up near the
slope, and the hurdles were put together at the
very foot of the spectators.
The sheep had to be driven over the plank
bridge, and the penning done beneath the very
/•///•: SHEPHERDS TOOTHY.
nose of the crowd. A stiff course if ever there
was one; and the time allowed, ten short
minutes.
Kvan Jones and little Pip led off.
These two, who had won on many a hard-
fought field, worked together as they had never
worked before. Smooth and swift, like a yacht
in Southampton water, round the flag, through
the gap, they brought their sheep. Down be-
tween the two flags — accomplished right well
that awkward turn, and back to the bridge.
There they stopped : the sheep would not face
that narrow way. Once, twice, and again they
broke, and each time the gallant little Pip, his
tongue out and his tail quivering, brought them
back to the bridge-head.
At length one faced him, then another, aud-
it was too late. Time was up. The judges sig-
naled and the Welshman called off his dog and
withdrew.
A roar went up from the crowd. The mob
surged forward, but the stewards held them
o
back.
" Back, please! Don't encroach ! McAdam's
to come ! '
From the far bank the little man watched the
scene. His coat and cap were off, and his hair
jjleamed white in the sun ; his sleeves were rolled
o
up and his face was twitching but set as he
stood — ready.
30 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
The hubbub over the stream at length sub-
sided. One of the judges nodded to him.
" Noo, Wullie — noo or never!' They were
off. " Back, gentlemen ! Back ! He's off— he's
coming ! McAdam's coming !
They might well shout and push, for the huge
dog was onto his sheep before they knew it, and
away they went with a rush with him right on
their backs. Up the slope they swept and round
the first flag, already galloping. Down the hill
for the gap, and McAdam was flying ahead to
turn them. But they passed him like a hur-
ricane, and Red Wullie was in front with a rush
and turned them alone.
" McAdam wins ! Five to four McAdam ! I
lay agin Owd Bob ! " rang out a clear voice in
the silence.
Through the gap they rattled, ears back, feet
twinkling like the wings of driven grouse.
" He's lost 'em ! They'll break ! They're
away ! " was the cry.
Tammas Thornton was half-way up the wheel
of the Kenmuir wagon ; every man was on his
toes ; ladies were standing in their carriages.
The sheep were tearing along the hillside, all
together like a white scud. After them, gallop-
ing like a Waterloo winner, raced Red Wullie.
And last of all leaping over the ground like a de-
moniac, making not for the two flags, but the plank
bridge, was the white-haired figure of McAdam.
THE SHEPHERD'S TROPHY. 31
"He's bc.it' Red U'ullie's beat ! ' roared a
strident voice.
"McAdam wins! Five to four on McAdam !
I lay ;igin ( )\vd IJob!" rang out the clear reply.
Red Wullie was no\v racing parallel to the
fugitives and above them. All tour were travel-
&
ing at a terrific rate, while the two flags were
barely twenty yards in front, below the line of
flight and almost parallel to it. To effect the
turn a change in direction must be made almost
through a right angle.
O d> 0
"He's beat! He's beat! McAdam's beat !
Can't make it nohow !" was the roar.
From over the stream a yell-
"Turn 'em, Wullie!"
At the word the great dog swerved down on
the flying three. They turned, still at the
gallop, like a troop of cavalry, and dropped
clean and neat between the flags ; and down
to the stream they rattled, passing McAdam on
the way as though he were standing.
j o o
" Weel done, Wullie ! " came the scream from
the far bank, and from the crowd went up an
involuntary burst of applause.
" Ma word ! "
''Did yo' see that?"
" By gob ! "
It was a turn, indeed, of which the smartest
team in the galloping horse-gunners might well
have been proud. A shade later, and they must
32 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
have overshot the mark ; a shade sooner, and a
miss.
Right onto the centre of the bridge the lead-
ing sheep galloped and — stopped abruptly. In
the crowd there was utter silence ; staring eyes,
rigid finger. James Moore, standing in front
of them all, was the calmest there.
Red Wullie was not to be denied. He leaped
on the back of the hindmost sheep. The sheep
staggered, slipped and fell.
Almost before it had touched the water,
McAdam, his face afire and his eyes flaming, was
in the stream. In a second he had hold of the
struggling creature, and with an almost super-
human effort, had half-thrown, half-shoved it
onto the bank.
Again a tribute of admiration led by James
Moore.
The little man scrambled panting onto the
bank and raced after sheep and dog. His face
was white beneath the perspiration ; his breath
came in quivering gasps ; his trousers were wet
and clinging to his legs ; he was trembling in
every limb and yet was indomitable.
They were up to the pen and the last wrestle
began. McAdam's face was white ; his eyes
staring, unnaturally bright ; his bent body
projected forward ; and he tapped with his
stick on the ground like a blind man coaxing the
sheep in. And the tailless Tyke, his tongue
THE SHEPHERD'S TROPHY.
out and Hanks heaving, crept and crawled and
worked up to the opening, patient as lie had
never been before.
They were in .it last.
There was a lukewarm, half-hearted che< r ;
then silence.
Exhausted and trembling, the little man
leaned against the pen, one hand on it ; while
Red \Vullie, his flanks still heaving, gently
licked the other.
No time to dally. J, lines Moore and Owd liub
were off on their run. No applause this time;
not a voice was raised ; anxious faces ; twitching
fingers ; the whole crowd tense as a stretched
wire. A false turn, a wilful sheep, a cantankerous
judge, and the gray dog would be beaten.
And not a man there but knew it.
Yet over the stream master and dog went about
their business never so quiet, never so collected ;
for all the world as if they were rounding up a
flock on Miiir Pike.
The old dog found his sheep in a twinklin: ,
and a wild, scared trio they proved. Rounding
the first flag, one bright-eyed wether made a
dash for the open. He was quick, but the gray
dog was quicker; a splendid recover; and a
sound like a sob from the watchers on the hill.
Down the slope they came for the gap in tin-
wall. A little below the opening, James Moon-
took his stand to stop and turn them ; while a
34 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
distance behind the sheep loitered Owd Bob,
seeming to follow rather than to drive, yet
watchful of every movement and anticipating it.
On he came, one eye on his master, the other on
his sheep ; never hurrying them, never flurrying
them, yet bringing them rapidly along.
A wide sweep for the turn at the flags, and
the sheep wheeled as though at the word of
command, dropped through them and traveled
rapidly for the bridge.
" Steady," whispered the crowd.
" Hold 'em," croaked Kirby, huskily. " There !
I knew it ! I saw it coming! '
The pace down the hill had grown quick — too
quick. Close on the bridge the three sheep
made an effort to break. A dash— and two
were checked ; but the third went away like the
wind, and after him Owd Bob, a gray streak
against the green.
Kirby was white to the lips ; and in the
stillness you could plainly hear the Dalesmen's
sobbing breath, as it fluttered in their throats.
" Gallop ! they say he's old and slow ! '
" Dash ! Look at that ! ' For the gray dog,
racing like the Nor'easter over the sea, had al-
ready retrieved the fugitive.
Man and dog were coaxing the three a step
at a time toward the bridge.
One ventured — the others followed.
In the middle the leader stopped and tried to
/•///-; .S//A/Y/A AYAY y A' o /'//)'. 35
turn — and tinu- was Hying, ami the penning alone
must take minutes.
" We're beat ! " groaned Sam'l. " I allus knoo
hoo 'twould be." Then breaking into a bello\v,
his honest face crimsoned with enthusiasm :
" Coom on, master! Good for yo', Owd Bob!
Yon's the style ! '
For the gray dog had leapt on the back of the
hindmost sheep ; it had surged forward against
the next, and they were over, and making up
the hill amidst a thunder of applause.
At the pen it was a sight to see master and
dog working together. The master, his face
stern and a little whiter than its wont, casting
forward with both hands, herding the sheep in ;
the gray dog, his eyes big and bright, crawling
and creeping closer and closer.
"They're in! — Nay — Ay- Stop'er ! Good,
Owd Bob! Ah-h-h, they're in!' And the last
sheep reluctantly passed through — on the stroke
of time.
Above was the black wall of people, utterly
still ; belo\v the judges comparing notes. In
the silence you could almost hear the panting of
the crowd.
Then one of the judges went up to James
Moore and shook him by the hand.
The gray clog had won. O\vd Bob o' Kenmuir
had won the Shepherd's Trophy outright.
A second's palpitating silence ; a woman's
36 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
hysterical laugh, — and a deep-mouthed bellow
rent the expectant air : shouts, screams, hat-toss-
ings, back-clappings blending in a din that made
the many-winding waters of the Silver Lea
quiver and quiver again.
"Weel done, Owd Bob! Weel done, Mr.
Moore ! Yo've knocked him ! Knock him again !
Owd Bob o' Kenmuir! Moore! Moore o' Ken-
muir ! Hip! Hip! Hurrah!'
That is how the celebrated Shepherd's Trophy
came to wander no more, won outright by the
last of the gray dogs of Kenmuir, Owd Bob.
Alice's Flag.
MAURICE THOMPSON.
Adapted from " Alice of Old Vincennes." Used by per-
mission of the publishers, The Bowen-Merrill Co.
It was Alice Roussilon who first raised the flag of the
stars and stripes over the port of old Vincennes. It was
this same brave girl who snatched that flag and ran away
with it because she was not going to let the banner of free-
dom and of America be hauled down by those volatile
Frenchmen.
When Hamilton and his Frenchmen took possession of
the fort, there were two prisoners on parole of honor, Cap-
tain Helm and his lieutenant, Fitzhugh Beverly.
Beverly and Miss Alice Roussilon had spent much time
together since Beverly's arrival at the post, and there existed
between them a friendship that was almost love.
ALICE'S EL AC. 37
But now, things were different ; Beverly w.is a prisoner
of war. Hamilton was the1 governor of Vinceimes. Uut
he was hated by all its inhabitants, for he was a scalp-
buyer and a hard-hearted French man.
While Beverly was in captivity, his thoughts were of Alice
and how he might save her from the indignities of th<
Frenchmen. But he had given Gov. Hamilton his word of
honor not to escape. Finally, becoming- desperate, he threw
his parole at Hamilton's feet, declaring that he would no
longer be under obligations to him, that he would escape, go
to Kaskaskia, bring Clark and his forces, take the post, and
restore order in the town. Hamilton looked at him scorn-
fully, smiling as one who feels safe in his authority ; but the
next morning, Beverly was missing. Hamilton offered a
large reward for his scalp and a still larger one for his re-
turn alive. But time went on, and the Indians who had
been sent on his trail did not return.
Meanwhile, affairs at Vincennes had taken a tragic turn.
Alice Roussilon had been ordered to give up her flag, and
had even been summoned before Gov. Hamilton and sub-
mitted to insulting remarks. He told her that he h,"d
Beverly's scalp in his possession, brought to him by the
Indians, but the maidenly grace and the womanly bearing
of this brave girl as she bore herself under his terrible words
were beyond the comprehension of the rough, morose French
commander.
She was kept a prisoner at the fort, and one night, escap-
ing, she was shot, but not seriously hurt, by Hamilton him-
self. News of this reached Beverly in the exaggerated
form that Hamilton had killed her.
Not long after, Clark and his forces arrived and Beverly
was with them, much worn by his long tramp through the
woods in the dead of winter, but it was for love, and for
love all things are possible.
The attack on the fort began early in the evening and
38 NEW PIE CES FOR PRIZE SPEA KING.
lasted all night and far into the morning. At length, Hamil-
ton was forced to make an unconditional surrender. The
prisoners being disposed of, preparations were now being
made to haul down the British flag and to raise the banner
of George Washington in its stead, and when everything
should be ready, to fire a salute of thirteen guns from
the captured battery.
OUTSIDE the fort, the Creoles were beginning a
noise of jubilation. The rumor of what was
going to be done was passed from mouth to
mouth, until every soul in the town knew and
thrilled with expectancy. Men, women, and
children came swarming to see the British flag
hauled down and to hear at close range the
crash of the cannon. The tumult grew swiftly
to a solid rolling tide that seemed beyond all
comparison with the population of Vincennes.
Hamilton heard it and trembled inwardly, afraid
that the mob should prove too strong for the
guard. He stood a little way from the foot of
the tall flag-pole, his arms folded on his breast,
his chin slightly drawn in, his eyebrows con-
tracted, gazing steadily at Beverly while he was
untying the halyard which was wound around
the pole's base about three feet from the ground.
Clark gave a signal and at the tap of the drum,
Beverly shook the ropes loose and began to
lower the British colors. Slowly the bright
emblem of earth's mightiest nation crept down
in token of the fact that a handful of backwoods-
ALICE'S FLAG. 39
men had won an empire by a splendid stroke of
pure heroism. Beverly detached the flag and,
saluting, handed it to Col. Clark. Hamilton's
breast heaved, his iron jaws tightened their pres-
sure until the lines of his face were deep furrows
of pain.
Just then there was a bird-like movement and
a wing-like rustle, and a light figure flitted
swiftly across the area. All eyes were turned
upon it. Hamilton recoiled as pale as death,
half-lifting his hands as if to ward off a deadly
blow, and then a gay flag was flung out over his
head and he saw before him the girl he had shot ;
but her beautiful face was not waxen now, nor
was it cold or lifeless. The rich red blood was
strong under the browned, yet delicate, skin, and
the eyes were bright and brave. Col. Clark looked
on in amazement, and, in spite of himself, in
admiration. Alice Roussilon stood firmly a
statue of triumph, her right arm outstretched,
holding the flag high above Hamilton's head.
There was a dead silence for some moments, dur-
ing which Hamilton's face showed that he was
ready to collapse.
" I said, as you will remember, Monsieur Le
Gouvernor, that when you next should see this
flag, I should wave it over your head. Well,
look, I am waving it ! Vive La Republique !
vive George Washington ! What do you think
of it, Monsieur Le Gouvernor? '
4-O NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
'•' Raise her flag ! Run up the young lady's
flag ! ' some one shouted and then every voice
seemed to echo the words. Clark was a young
man of noble type, in whose veins throbbed the
warm chivalrous blood of the cavaliers. A waft
of the suddenly prevailing influence bore him
also quite off his feet. He turned to Beverly
and said :
" Do it ! It will have great effect. It is a
good idea ; get the young lady's flag and her per-
mission to run it up."
Before he finished speaking, and, indeed, at
the first glance, he saw that Beverly, like Hamil-
ton, was as white as a dead man. Then it came
to his memory that his young friend had con-
fided to him during the awful march through the
prairie wilderness, a love story about this very
Alice Roussilon.
" I say, Lieutenant Beverly," he repeated,
" beg the young lady's permission to use her flag
on the glorious occasion ; or shall I do it for you ? '
Beverly braced himself quickly and his whole
expression changed when Clark moved to go to
Alice. For he realized now that it was indeed
Alice in flesh and blood. She was not looking
toward him, but she saw him and turned to face
him. Hers was the advantage; for she had
known for some hours of his presence in Vin-
cennes and had prepared herself to meet him
courageously and with maidenly reserve.
. 41
She let the flag fall at Hamilton's feet when
Beverly came near her smiling a glad smile, and
with a joyous cry leaped into his outstretched
arms. Two minutes later the flag was made fast
to the halyard, and began to squeak through the
rude pulley at the top of the pole. Up, up,
climbed the gay little emblem of glory, while the
cannon crashed from the embrasures of the block-
house, and outside the roar of voices redoubled.
Thirteen guns boomed the salute and the flag
went up at old Vincennes never to come down
again, and when it reached its place at the top
of the staff, Beverly and Alice Roussilon stood
side by side looking at it while the sun broke
through the clouds, and flashed on its shining
folds, and love, unabashed, glorified the two
strong young faces.
Pomp's Story.
J. T. TROWBRIDGE.
Adapted from " Cudjo's Cave."
The scene is laid in Tennessee — time — the beginning of
the Rebellion. Penn Hapgood, whom we find lying very
ill in a cave, is a young Quaker persecuted by the Rebels
for his abolition views. He was caught at the schoolhouse
where he taught, cruelly beaten, and tarred and feathered.
At the house where he boarded he was refused admit-
tance, so he made his way to some kind friends where he
was tenderly cared for, but he became very ill with a fever.
42 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
While lying one night in a half-stupor, he overheard a con-
versation between his friends and a mob of Rebels who had
come to warn them not to harbor the schoolmaster. Sick
and half-delirious as he was, he understood the danger in
which he placed his friends, so he arose, threw a blanket
around him, let himself down from the window and ran into
the woods, finally falling unconscious on the ground. Here
he was found almost dead by Pomp, a negro, who carried
him to the cave where we find him after many weeks, on
the road to recovery.
THREE days longer Perm lay there on his rude
bed in the cave, helpless still, and still in ignor-
ance.
Pomp repeatedly assured him that all was well,
and that he had no cause for anxiety, but refused
to enlighten him. The negro's demeanor was
well calculated to inspire calmness and trust.
There was. something truly grand and majestic,
not only in his person, but in his character also.
He was a superb man. Perm was never weary of
watching him. He thought him the most per-
fect specimen of a gentleman he had ever seen ;
always cheerful, always courteous, always com-
porting himself with the ease of an equal in the
presence of his guest. His strength was enor-
mous. He lifted Penn in his arms as if he had
been an infant. But his grace was no less than
his vigor. He was, in short, a lion of a man.
Meanwhile, Penn gradually regained strength,
so that on the fourth day Pomp permitted him
to talk a littl
,
/'(;.i//".y SIVA-)'. 43
" Tell me first about my friends," said Penn.
"Are they well? Do they know where I am ? '
" I hope not, sir," said the negro with a signifi-
cant smile, seating himself on a giant's stool.
^j ^j
" I trust that no one knows where you are."
"What then, must they think?' said Penn.
" How did I leave them ?"
" That is what they are very much perplexed
to find out, sir."
" You have heard from them, then ? '
" O, yes ; we have a way of getting news of
people down there. They have been so much
disturbed about you, that I would have been
glad to inform them of your safety, if I could.
But not even they must know of this place."
" Where am I, then ? "
" You are, as you perceive, in a cave. But I
suppose you know so little how you came here
you would find some difficulty in training your
way to us again ? ' This was spoken interroga-
tively, with an intelligent smile.
" I am so- ignorant of the place," said Penn,
" that it may be in the Planet Mars, for aught I
know. But tell me, will you not? — how you
came to inhabit this dreadful place ? '
" Dreadful ? There are worse places than this,
my friend. Is it gloomy ? The house of
bondage is gloomier. Is it damp? It is not
with the cruel sweat and blood of the slave's
brow and back. Is it cold ? The hearts of our
tyrants are colder."
44 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" I understand you," said Penn, whose sus-
picion was thus confirmed that this man was a
fugitive. " And I am deeply interested in you.
How long have you lived here?'
" Would you like to hear something of my
story?' said the negro, the expression of his
face growing deep and stern — his black, closely-
curling beard stirred with the proud smile that
arched his lips. " Perhaps it will amuse you."
"Amuse me? No!' said Penn. "I know by
your looks that it will not amuse me ; it will
absorb me ! '
" Well, then," said Pomp, " you are talking with
one who was born a slave."
" You know what I think of that ! ' said Penn.
" Even such a birth could not debase the man-
hood of one like you."
" It might have done so under different cir-
cumstances. But I was so fortunate as to be
brought up by a young master who was only too
kind and indulgent to me, considering my station.
We were playmates when children ; and we were
scarcely less intimate when we had grown up to
be men. He went to Paris to study medicine
and took me with him. I passed for his body
servant, but I was rather his friend. He never
took any important step in life without consult-
ing me ; and I am happy to know," added Pomp
with grand simplicity, " that my counsel was
always good. He acknowledged so much on his
POMP'S .y/'cM'K 45
death-bed. ' I always meant to reward you,' lie
said; 'you are to have your freedom, my dear
boys. '
" I always loved my master. And when I saw
him troubled on my account, when he ought to
have been thinking of his own soul, I begged him
not to let a thought of me give him any uneasi-
ness. My free papers had not been made out,
and he wished to send at once for a notary.
But his younger brother who was with him — he
who was to be his heir — ' Don't vex yourself
about Pomp, Edwin,' said he, ' I will see that
justice is done him.'
"'Ah, thank you, brother!' said Edwin.
' You will set him free and give him a few
hundred dollars to begin life with. Promise me
that, and I will rest in peace.'
" And did he not promise to do so ? '
" He promised readily enough. And so my
master died and was buried, and I — had another
master. For a few days nothing was said about
free papers; and I had been too much absorbed
in grief for the only man I loved to think much
about them. But when the estate was settled
up, and my new master was preparing to return
to his home in Tennessee, I grew uneasy.
" ' Master,' said I, taking off my hat to him
one morning, 'there is nothing more lean do for
him who is gone, so I would like to be for my-
self, now, if you please.'
46 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
"'For yourself, you black rascal?' said my
new master, laughing in my face.
" I wasn't used to being talked to in that man-
ner, and it cut. But I kept down that which
swelled up in me here, and reminded him, respect-
fully as I could, of the doctor's last words about
me and of his promise.
" ' You fool ! ' said he, ' do you think I was in
earnest ? '
" ' If you were not/ said I, 'the doctor was.'
" ' And do you think,' said he, ' that I am to
be bound by the last words of a man too far gone
to know his own mind in the matter? '
" ' He always meant I should have my free-
dom,' I answered him, ' and always said so.'
" ' Then why didn't he give it to you before,
instead of requiring me to make such a sacrifice?
Come, come, Pomp ! ' he patted my shoulder.
' You're altogether too valuable a nigger to throw
away. Come, my boy, you mustn't get foolish
ideas of freedom into your head ; they're what
spoil a nigger and they'll have to be whipped
out of you, which would be too bad for a fine,
handsome darkey like you are.'
" I could have torn him like a tiger for his in-
solence, his heartless injustice.
" ' Master,' said I, ' what you say is no doubt
very flattering. But I want what my master
gave me — what you promised that I should have
— I shall be content with nothing else.'
POMPS STORY. 47
" ' \Vli;it ! you persist ? ' he said kindling up.
'Let me tell you no\v, Pomp, once for all, you'll
have to be content with a great deal less; and
never mention the word " freedom " to me again
if you would keep that precious hide of yours
whole ! '
" I knew he meant it, and that there was no
hope for me.
" Well, he brought me here to Tennessee.
^>
Up to this time, I got on very well ; but he never
liked me. lie was determined to humiliate me ;
so one day he said to me, ' Pomp, that Nance
has been acting ugly of late, and you permit her.'
I was sort of overseer, you see. ' Now, I'll tell
you what I'm going to have done. Nance is
going to be whipped, and you are the fellow
that's going to whip her.'
" ' Pardon, master,' said I, ' that's what I never
did — to whip a woman.' ' Then it's time for you
to begin. I've had enough of your fine manners,
Pomp, and now you've got to come down a
little.'
" ' I will do anything you please to serve your
interests, sir,' said I, 'but whip a woman I never
can and never will. That's so, master.'
" ' You villain ! ' he shouted, seizing a riding
whip. ' I'll teach you to defy my authority to
my face!' And he sprang at me furious with
rage.
Take care, sir ! ' I said stepping back.
48 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
' 'Twill be better for both of us for you not to
strike me ! '
" ' What, you threaten, you villain?'
" * I do not threaten, sir, but I say what I say.
It will be better for both of us. You'll never
strike me twice. I tell you that.'
" I reckon he saw something dangerous in me,
as I said this, for, instead of striking, he immedi-
ately called for help. ' Sam, Harry, Nap ! bind
this devil ! Be quick ! '
" ' They won't do it,' said I. * Woe to the
man that lays finger on me, be he master or be
he slave ! '
"'I'll see about that!' said he, running into
the house. He came out again in a minute with
his rifle. I was standing there still, the boys all
keeping a safe distance, not daring to touch me.
" ' Master,' said I, ' hear one word. I am per-
fectly willing to die. Long enough you have
robbed me of my liberty and now you are wel-
come to what is less precious— my poor life.
But for your own sake, for your dead brother's
sake, let me warn you what you do.'
" I suppose my allusion to his injustice toward
me maddened him. He leveled his piece and
pulled the trigger. Luckily the percussion was
damp, or else I would not be talking with you
now. His aim was straight at my head. I did
not give him time for a second attempt. I was
on him in an instant. I beat him down, I
THROUGH rni: I-LOOD. 49
trampled him with rage. I snatched his gun
from him and lifted it to smash his skull. Just
then a voice cried : ' Don't, Pomp, don't kill
master ! '
" It was Nance pleading for the man who would
have had her whipped. I couldn't stand that.
I ler mercy made me merciful. ' Good-bye, boys ! '
I said. Thev were all standing round motion-
* o
less with terror. ' Good-bye, Nance ! I am off,
live or die, I quit this man's service forever ! '
" So I left him," said Pomp, " and ran for the
woods. I was soon ran";ind one; here it is." He removed the rifle
from its crevice in the rocks.
" Do you think it was taking too much from
one who would have robbed me of my soul ? '
Through the Flood.
IAN MACLAREN.
Adapted from " Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush."
DOCTOR M.vcLURE did not lead a solemn pro-
cession from the sick-bed to the dining-room, and
give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air
of wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because
neither the Drumtochtv houses nor his manners
50 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his
directions with one foot in the stirrup ; but when
he left the room where the life of Annie Mitchell
was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one
word, and at sight of his face her husband's
heart was troubled.
He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not
read the meaning of a sign, and labored under a
perpetual disability of speech ; but love was eyes
to him that day, and a mouth.
" Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the
truth ; wull Annie no come through ? " and Tam-
mas looked MacLure straight in the face who
never flinched his duty or said smooth things.
"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie lies a
chance, but a' daurna ; a' doot yer gaein' tae
lose her, Tammas."
Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who
looked round with sorrow in her beautiful eyes,
for she had seen many tragedies, and in this
silent sympathy the stricken man drank his cup,
drop by drop.
" A' wesna prepared for this, for a' thocht she
wud live the langest .... she's younger than
me by ten years, and never wes ill .... we've
been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's
juist like a year the day .... a' wes never
worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
kindliest lass in the Glen a' never cud mak'
THKOCG II THE FLOOD. 5 I
oot hoo slic ever lookit at me, 'at hesna hed ae
word tae say aboot her till it's o\ver late ....
she didna cuist up tae me that a' \\asna worthy
o' her, no her, but aye she said : ' Vir ma ain gude
man, and nae cud be kinder tae me.' .... An'
a1 \ves minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony
little strokes a' micht hae dune for her, and noe
the time is by We were mair nor man or
\vife, we were sweethearts a' the time Oh,
ma bonnie lass, what'll the bairns an' me dae
withoot ye, Annie ?
"Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit
Flora Cammil, and young Burnbrae, an' yon
shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a' sac
prood o' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed
keepit deith frae anither hame. Can ye no think
o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back
tae her man and bairnies?' and Tammas
searched the doctor's face in the cold, weird
light.
" Ye needna plead wi' me, Tammas, to dae the
best a' can for yir wife. Man, a' kent her lang
afore ye ever luved her; and a' saw her through
the fever when she wes a bit lassikie ; a' closed
her mither's een, and it wes me hed tae tell her
she wes an orphan, an' nae man was better
pleased when she got a gude husband. A've
naither wife nor bairns o' ma own, an' a' coont
a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div yc think
a' wudna save Annie if I cud ? If there wes a
52 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
man in Muirtown 'at cud dae mair for her, a'd
have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in
Perthshire are helpless for this tribble."
" It's God's wull, an' maum be borne, but it's a
sair wull for me, an' a'm no ungratefu' tae you,
doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
nicht ; " and Tammas went back to sit with Annie
for the last time.
Jess picked her way through the deep snow to
the main road, with a skill that came of long
experience, and the doctor held converse with
her according to his wont.
" Eh, Jess, wumman, yon wes the hardest wark
a' hae tae face. A' said she cudna be cured, and
it wes true, for there's juist ae man in the land
fit fo't, and they micht as weel try tae get the
mune oot o' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex
Tammas's hert, for it's heavy eneuch withoot
regrets.
"Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot
she wud be saved, for he hesna lost mair than
five per cent o' his cases, and they'll be puir toon
craturs, no strappin* women like Annie.
" It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up,
lass, for we've hed a heavy day. But it wud be
the grandest thing that was ever dune in the Glen
in oor time if it could be managed by hook or
crook.
" We'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess ; " and
the doctor passed at a gallop through the village,
T//KUUGII TV/A 1-/.OOD. 53
whose lights shunc across the white frost-bound
road.
" Come in by, doctor ; a' heard ye on the
road ; yc'ill hae been at Tammas Mitchell's ; hoo's
the gudewife ? a' doot she's sober."
' Annie's deem', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is
like tae brak his hert."
That's no lichtsome, doctor, for a' dinna ken
ony man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife
as Tammas, and there's no a bonnier wumman o'
her age crosses oor kirk door than Annie, nor a
cleverer at her wark. Man. ye'ill need tae pit
yir brains in steep. Is she clean beyond ye ? "
" Beyond me and every ither in the land but
ane, and it \vud cost a hundred guineas tae brine
o o
him tae Drumtochty."
" It's a fell chairge for a short day's work ; but
hundred or no hundred, we'ill hae him, an' no let
Annie gang, and her no half her years."
"Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?' and
MacLure turned white below the tan.
" Write the telegram, man, and Sandy'ill send it
aff frac Kildrummie this verra nicht, and ye'ill
hae yir man the morn."
" Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but
ye'ill grant me ae favor. Yc'ill lat me pay the
half, bit by bit — a' ken yir wullin' tae dae't a' —
but a' haena mony pleesures, an' a' wud like tae
hae ma ain share in savin' Annie's life."
Next morning a figure received Sir George on
54 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
the Kildrummie platform, whom that famous
surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced
himself as " MacLure of Drumtochty." It
seemed as if the East had come to meet the
West when these two stood together, the one in
traveling furs, handsome and distinguished, with
his strong, cultured face and carriage of authority,
a characteristic type of his profession ; and the
other rough and ungainly, yet not without some
signs of power in his eye and voice. As soon as
they were in the fir-woods MacLure explained
that it would be an eventful journey.
" It's a' richt in here, for the wind disna get at
the snaw, but the drifts are deep in the Glen,
and thi'll be sone engineerin' afore we get tae
oor destination, but oor worst job'ill be crossin'
the Tochty.
" Ye see the bridge hes been shakin* wi' this
winter's flood, and we daurna venture on it, sae
we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been melting up
Urtach way. There's na doot the water's gey
big, an' it's threatenin* tae rise ; but we'ill win
throusfh wi' a warstle.
o
" It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot
o' reach o' the water; wud ye mind haudin' them
on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm in yir
seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o'
the river ? "
By this time they had come to the edge, and
it was not a cheering sight. The Tochty had
THKOL\;H THE I-LOOD. 55
spread out over the meadows, and while they
waited they could see it cover another two inches
on the trunk of a tree. There are summer
floods, when the water is brown and flecked with
foam, but this was a winter flood, which is black
and sullen, and runs in the centre with a strong,
fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side
Hillocks stood to give directions by word and
hand, as the ford was on his land, and none
knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
They passed through the shallow water with-
out mishap, save when the wheel struck a hid-
den stone or fell suddenly into a rut ; but when
they neared the body of the river, MacLure
halted, to give Jess a minute's breathing.
" It'ill tak' ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud
raither be on yir back ; but ye never failed me yet,
and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'."
With the first plunge into the bed of the
stream the water rose to the axles, and then it
crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could
feel it lapping in about his feet, while the dog-
cart began to quiver. Sir George was as brave as
most men, but he had never forded a Highland
river in flood, and the mass of black water rac-
ing past beneath, before, behind him, shook his
nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered Mac-
Lure to turn back, declaring he would be con-
demned utterly and eternally if he allowed him-
self to be drowned for any person.
5 6 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" Sit doon ! ' thundered MacLure ; " con-
demned ye will be suner or later gin ye shirk yir
duty, but through the water ye gang the day."
Jess trailed her feet along the ground with
cunning art, and held her shoulder against the
stream ; MacLure leaned forward in his seat, a
rein in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hil-
locks, who was now standing up to the waist in
the water, shouting directions and cheering on
horse and driver.
"Hand tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole
yonder. Keep oot o't for ony sake. That's it ;
yir daein' fine. Steady, man, steady ! Yir at
the deepest ; sit heavy in yir seats. Up the
channel noo, an'ye'ill be oot o' the swirl. Weel
dune, Jess, weel dune, auld mare ! Mak'
straicht for me, doctor, an' a'll gie ye the road
oot. Ma word, ye've dune yir best, baith o' ye,
this mornin', ' cried Hillocks, splashing up to
the dog cart, now in the shallows.
"It wes titch an' go for a meenut in the mid-
dle ; a Hielan' ford is a kittle (hazardous) road in
the snaw time, but ye're safe noo.
" Gude Inch tae ye up at Westerton, sir; nane
but a richt-hearted man wud hae riskit the
Tochty in flood. Ye're boond tae succeed aifter
sic a graund beginning" for it had spread already
that a famous surgeon had come to do his best
for Annie, Tammas Mitchell's wife.
Two hours later MacLure came out from
1 IIROL'GH Till: 1-1.00 1>. $7
Annie's room and laid hold of Tammas, a heap
of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and car-
ried him off to the barn, and spread some corn
on the threshing-floor and thrust a Hail into his
O
hands.
" Noo we've tae begin, an' we'ill no be dune
for an' oor, and ye've tae lay on without stoppin'
till a' come for ye, an' a'll shat the door tae haud
in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for
there mauna be a cheep aboot the hoose for
Annie's sake."
" A'll dae anything ye want me, but if — if-
" A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be
danger. But what are ye feared for, wi' the
queen's ain surgeon here ?'
Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save
t\vice, when Tammas crept to the door and
listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
It seemed twelve hours instead of one \vhen
the door swung back, and MacLure rilled the
doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for
the sun had arisen on the snow.
His face was tidings of great joy, there was
nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for
o
cdorv, save the sun itself in the heavens.
O * '
" A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an'
a'll never see the like again ; it's a' ower, man,
withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
fa'in asleep as fine as ye like."
"Dis he think Annie'll live?"
58 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose in-
side a month ; that's the gude o' bein' a clean-
bluided, weel-livin-
" Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye ? it's
a mercy a' keppit ye, or we wud hed anither job
for Sir George.
" Ye're a' richt noo ; sit doon on the strae.
A'll come back in a whilie, an' ye'ill see Annie
juist for a meenut, but ye mauna say a word."
Marget took him and let him kneel by Annie's
bedside.
He said nothing then or afterward, for speech
came only once in his life-time to Tammas, but
Annie whispered : " Ma ain dear man."
When the doctor placed the precious bag of
instruments beside Sir George next morning, he
laid a check beside it and was about to leave.
" No, no," said the great man. " Mrs. Mac-
Fayden and I were on the gossip last night, and
I know the whole story about you and your
friend. You have some right to call me a
coward, but I'll never let you count me a mean,
miserly rascal," and the check with Drumsheugh's
painful writing fell in fifty pieces on the floor.
' • t/A A / /. EMEA ' : 1 '111-. KliVG / " 5
a}' 1
She smiled and nodded.
" I'll come back at 5:10 ' -the wheels began to
turn — lt and the wood is in, mother ' -the train
was moving — " and the kindlings ' — the rattle of
the cars drowned his voice — "box full' -how
the steam roared ! " Good-bye, mother."
It was a marvelous ride to the boy, who had
never ceased to wonder at the proud old engine
and its magnificent strength. But for all the
pleasure and freedom, there was a shadow all day
on the boyish face, which neither the good things
nor the wonderful stories which Engineer Robin-
son brought to his entertainment could quite
dispel.
Once the train stopped to wait for a delayed
freight, and the engineer spoke to the boy, sit-
ting silent at the window.
74 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" Hello, Jack! " he said. "You're not asleep,
are you? An engineer can't sleep, sir; remem-
ber that. Whatever other folks may do, he's
got to keep his eyes open."
" Yes, sir, that's just what father used to say.
And father said, the night they brought him, sir,
he said: ' Every man may jump but the engineer
— the engineer must stick to the engine.' And
he said, father said, away off it seemed to me,
like you try to speak when the steam's a-sizzing,
sir ; he said : ' Stick to the engine and stand by
your mother, Jack.' And I've been arthinking,
Mr. Robinson, I've been a-thinking all day as
maybe I ought not to have left her by herself a
whole day."
The engineer answered without turning his
head :
" Oh, she's all right, Jack ; she's safe."
" But you know what father said, ' Stand by
your mother, Jack,' and here I am away off on
your engine, sir."
The delayed freight rattled by, twenty minutes
late ; the fireman threw in some coal, the steam
began to puff, and No. 6 sped on its way and
drew up in time at Antioch, 5:10. A door flew
open as the whistle sounded four times, as if it
said, " Here I am, mother."
A little form was lowered from the engine and
went flying through the mist and fog towards the
lighted doorway.
ENGINEER CONNOR'S SON. 7$
It was one sunshiny morning in June, when
Jack's mother went to call on a sick friend, at
the station just above Antioch.
" You can come to meet me at twelve o'clock,
Jack," she said, as she kissed his cheek. " I'll be
sure to come on that train unless something
happens."
" I'll be here, mother," said Jack, " to every
train until you come."
The sun still shone when the train came in at
noon. Jack thought the whistle sounded mourn-
ful, somehow. And the engine " slowed up '
sooner than usual, so that the train came in
" slow and solemn-like."
The telegraph operator had laid his hand in a
very gentle way on the boy's head as he hurried
past him. And Engineer Robinson never once
looked out to speak to him. The fireman, too,
turned his face the other way and was busy with
his shovel. The brakeman leaned on his brake
and never lifted his eyes as the cars pulled up.
Jack thought it all very strange.
" Here I am, mother."
The conductor cleared his throat when the
well-known welcome rang through the train.
Passengers turned from the windows and put
their handkerchiefs to their eyes, as if the sight
of an eager little face aglow with expectation
and delight were painful to them.
" Here I am, mother." He was scanning
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
every face eagerly, longingly, when the conduc-
tor stepped out.
" Jack," he said, " she isn't aboard."
A shadow flitted across the bright countenance.
The conductor took the boy's hand in his and
held it close.
" Jack, my boy," he said, " you must be a man.
Your mother has not come, — will not come, Jack.
Your mother is dead, my son."
And the sun still shone, but not for Jack.
He never knew the terrible story, how in
stepping from the train her foot slipped and she
fell beneath the wheels, which passed over her
body. He never knew — for from that day he
never knew anything, except that she never came
back to him.
Day after day when the whistle sounded a
little figure was seen to climb the wood-pile-
Jerry Crane's wood-pile now — to watch for his
mother.
" Here I am, mother," the shrill, clear voice
would ring out. And when the train had passed
on some one would explain : " It's poor Jack
Connor come to meet his mother." They grew
accustomed to seeing him there as the days
drifted into years. " Every train until you come
back," he had said.
One day they missed him ; he was ill, raving
with fever, Jerry Crane's wife bent over his pil-
low ; the poor little life was going. At ten o'clock
he opened his eyes.
A SO.V OI< AHDALLAIl. 77
" Is X<>. C> in yet? " he asked.
" Not yet, Jack," they told him.
lie smiled and closed his eyes again.
"She'll be here on that train," he said. "I
must cro down to meet her when No. 6 comes in."
o
At eleven he started and sat up in bed. ' Is
she in yet ? " he asked. " Is No. 6 in ? '
0 Not yet, Jack, clear," they told him, and he
dropped back among his pillows.
" ' Stick to your engine and stand by your
mother, Jack,' ' they heard him whisper.
At midnight a whistle sounded sharp and
shrill, and Jack raised himself in bed and gave a
cry of joy : " She's in ! " he shouted, " No. 6 is
in. Here I am, mother ! '
The train pulled up and stopped. It was only
a freight stopping for water, but that was
nothing to Jack. A smile flitted across his face.
"She's come," he said, and with a look of unut-
terable peace held out his arms and went to
meet her.
A Son of Abdallah.
ALBION \Y. TOTRGEE.
Adapted from " A Son of Old Harry."
Way back in the year 1850, there lived in one of the
frontier districts of Ohio, a farmer by the name of Seth
Goodwin, with his wife Susan and his son Jack, a boy of
twelve years.
78 MhW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Seth Goodwin's desire for more land had caused him to
mortgage what he had already had, to raise money, and
shortly after a financial crisis swept over the country,
causing the value of produce and also of land to decrease,
so that the prospect was that Seth would lose his farm, and
to make matters worse his health failed. Just at this time
his younger brother Horace came home, bringing with him
his racing mare Queen. Now among the stock on Seth's
farm was a colt which, although highly bred, had never
attracted the attention of his owner, but which Jack Good-
win, the boy, had .claimed as his own. After his Uncle's
arrival with the Queen, the two horses were often run side
by side, the colt always beating in the race — until Uncle
Horace finally told his 'brother that the colt was worth a
small fortune and could be used to pay off the mortgage.
About a mile from the Goodwin place was a small village,
in which the man who held the mortgage kept a store and
hotel and was the monied man of that locality. His name
was Marsh Kincaid, and he was a hard-hearted, unscrup-
ulous rascal.
He had recently purchased in Kentucky a noted racehorse
called Gray Eagle, and Horace Goodwin, by laughing about
Gray Eagle, finally got him to agree to give $2,500 for a
horse he (Horace) could produce that had been reared in
the county, and never raced for money, providing said horse
could beat Gray Eagle the best two in three, and in case
Gray Eagle should win Kincaid was to have Queen. So
the race was arranged to come off on the mile of road com-
mencing in front of the Goodwin farmhouse.
Kincaid's only child, Delia, a girl of thirteen years — loyal
and true to her playmate, Jack Goodwin, had given him
warning — that from things she had overheard from her
father — foul play was intended if the race could not be won
by fair.
A SOiV 01- AHDAl.I.AIf. 79
THE day of the race \vas all th.it could be
desired, and the concourse of people greater
even than had been anticipated. Long before
the hour of eleven, the " measured mile " seemed
merely a broad yellow ribbon between two dark-
lines of vehicles arranged along the sides. The
marshals, with white sashes across their shoulders,
rode hither and thither, getting the crowd in
order and finding places for the wagons still
arriving. The trees in the orchard and along
the sides of the course were filled with boys.
Men perched on the fences or leaned against
them, whittling as they talked. Here and there
were venders of cakes and cider, ginger-beer and
other harmless decoctions. The Gray Eagle
occupied a spacious marquee in the orchard,
from which a flag gayly floated. The horse that
was to compete with him was securely screened
from prying eyes in a little tent erected in Seth
Goodwin's yard. It was carefully guarded by
the friends of Horace, none of whom seemed to
know, however, what manner of horse it was
that stamped and whinnied within. Boy.s
swarmed everywhere, and Delia Kincaid's black-
pony, white plumes and waving curls flashed in
and out among the spectators in the most unex-
pected places.
When all the details were completed, the mar-
shal, standing on the workbench, commanded
silence, ordered the track to be cleared and that
80 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
none should cross it until the race was ended.
His deputies waved their flags and repeated his
announcements. Then the makers of the race
were called on to name the horses, and Marsh
Kincaid, standing on a chair on the west side of
the track, named Gray Eagle, giving the name
of his sire and dame and announcing himself as
the owner. At the same moment, the sides of
the marquee were thrown back, and the proud
horse, with his wiry little colored jockey, clad in
gray with shining boots and spurs, pranced out
and took his place before the judges' stand.
Their appearance was greeted with a loud cheer.
Nothing was yet known about the horse that
was to contest the race with Gray Eagle. There
was a breathless silence, therefore, when Horace
Goodwin, standing jauntily on the shoulders of
two friends, took off his hat to the judges and
announced :
" Belmont's Abdallah, son of Abdallah, by
the Belmont mare ; bay colt four years old ;
never entered for any race."
" Who owns him ? " interrupted Kincaid, im-
periously.
" Seth Goodwin owns him," answered Horace,
with a ring of triumph in his voice.
" Do you want any proofs of this fact, Mr.
Kincaid ? " asked the marshal.
" Nothing but the horse," said Kincaid, incred-
ulously.
./ SON OF Ai;i>.llJ.AH. 8 1
Horace Goodwin placed two finders of his left
hand between his lips and gave a shrill whistle.
The front of the tent was thrown open, and the
son of Abdallah walked with steady, springing
strides to the starting-place, looking vvonderingly
about upon the unaccustomed crowd. Jack was
attired in a white jacket and trousers, with red
stockings tied above the knee with blue ribbons,
without shoes, and wore a red cap. He carried
a long, heavy whip strapped to his wrist and
rode a narrow sheepskin pad with stirrups
attached, which he hardly seemed to need.
There was another hush as every eye scanned
the points of the new candidate for the honors
of the turf. Some thought him lacking in spirit ;
others said he was too long in the back to endure
continued exertion ; one pronounced him too deep
in the chest ; another thought him too low in the
withers ; but all confessed that the trim, round
body, slender limbs, lithe neck, lean head, quick-
moving ears, shiny coat and glossy black points
presented as nearly perfect a picture of the ideal
horse as they had ever seen.
" Do you have to ride him with an ox-gad ?'
asked the owner of Gray Eagle with a sneer,
pointing to the whip at Jack's wrist.
" Why, that's style, Marsh, don't you under-
stand ? " answered Horace, jocosely. " I couldn't
afford to borrow a nigger and fit him out with
jimcracks as you have done ; but raw-hide's cheap,
82 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
you know, and being sure you'd got the longest
purse, I thought I'd try and have the longest
whip."
The Gray Eagle, catching the excitement of
the admiring, shouting crowd, pranced and ambled
along the whole course, his rider foolishly induc-
ing him to sidle and curvet for the gratification
of the beholders. Jack ro"de with a loose rein,
allowing his horse to take the long, easy walk to
which he had been accustomed in training, while
his rider fixed his attention closely upon the
track he was to use.
Cris Barclay was the starter at the north end
of the course. The Gray was half a length ahead
when the horses went under the string, but Jack
nodded to him and he gave the word. The
startingr-crun was fired, and before its echoes had
o o
died away the Gray Eagle improved the advan-
tage he had at the send-off, and was two, three,
-a half-dozen lengths ahead. What was the
matter with the colt? At this rate he would be
distanced in the first heat. The people along
the route were silent. The Gray Eagle's jockey
glanced backward and spoke encouragingly to
his horse. If he could keep his lead until the
half-mile post he stood to win. But now the
colt began to close the gap. The jockey toucheci
the Eagle with his boot. Still the bay crept up.
As they saw it the people cheered. Public sym-
pathy was evidently with the boy and the home-
A SOX OF A JW ALLAH. 8 '5
bred colt. As they passed the half-mile maple,
the black muzzle was even with the white flank.
The Gray Eagle's rider urged him openly, and
the veteran answered with a magnificent burst
of speed. Still the colt did not lag. II is ears
were laid back, the white teeth showed as he
champed the bit, and his eyes flashed wickedly ;
but he neither gained nor lost. The boy patted
his neck and spoke soothingly to him, his hand
bearing lightly on the rein. They passed the
three-quarter post, and now the colt began to
gain. The rider of Gray Eagle is using the spur!
They are twenty lengths away from the big
beech, and the black nose is on a line with the
white one. Now the boy leans forward, shaking
the reins and speaks sharply to the colt. The
Gray's jockey plies the whip. The old horse
responds nobly, but in vain. The colt is half a
length ahead as they pass under the string.
The gun is fired. A shout goes up. The
marshals, sitting on their horses along the course,
wave their red flags to show that the bay has
won. Then the shout echoes back and forth.
Seth Goodwin smiles contentedly, and his wife,
standing behind his chair in the front doorway,
waves a greeting to the boy, who glances toward
her before he jumps down and runs into the tent,
leaving the colt to be cared for by the others.
Kincaid gave some directions to his jockey,
and Horace Goodwin whispered a word in Jack's
84 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ear as he tossed him to his seat for the second
heat. The boy was pale and his set lips were
white to their very edges. There was some
trouble about getting away, and again the Gray
Eagle got the lead and kept it all the way, win
ning by a length and more. The time, a i
nearly as it could be computed, was nothing like
as good as in the first heat. As soon as the re-
sult was announced, Goodwin's friends scattered
themselves along the southern part of the track.
Kincaid's followers cheered loudly, but the shout
lacked the volume that comes from numbers.
When the gun was fired for the third heat the
Gray was again in the lead and remained there
for the first quarter. Then the colt closed up.
At the half-mile they were neck to neck. Then
the bay suddenly shot ahead, and at the third
quarter there were a dozen lengths between
them. A roar of triumph rolled before him
down the line.
" No chance for a foul there," said Horace
Goodwin, standing on the end of the work-bench,
to the stranger at his side, in a tone of exultant
m afar ho could see the little form in the
faint light of a gas lamp.
" Thank God ! " he cried, " she is still there ! "
I Ic seized her hand.
" Ah ! how cold she is, poor little one ! '
As he lifted her in his arms, the child's head
fell back limp, and she did not waken. " How
children sleep," he thought, pressing her to his
breast for warmth ; and, vaguely anxious, he was
about to kiss her lids to draw her from this
heavy slumber, when he saw with terror that
the child's eyes were half-open, showing glassy
pupils, extinguished and motionless. With a
terrible suspicion, Lucien brushed her little lips
with his own, and no breath came from them.
While Lucien had been winning a fortune with
the louis stolen from her, this little beggar had
died — died from cold.
His throat contracted in awful agony, he tried
to cry out — and in the effort he awoke from a
nightmare on the bench at his club, where he
had fallen asleep before midnight, and had been
left undisturbed by the kindness of the old valet,
who had gone off last of all at five o'clock. His
heart had been touched by the poor bankrupt.
A misty December dawn was peering through
the panes. Lucien went out, pawned his watch,
bathed, breakfasted, then went to the recruiting
office, where he enlisted in the First African
Chasseurs.
92 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Lucien de Hem is now a lieutenant ; he lives
on his small pay and never touches a card.
It appears that he saves something too, for
not long ago, in Algiers, he was seen by a brother
officer, who was walking behind him in a winding
street of the Kasha, giving alms to a little Spanish
beggar asleep under a doorway. The officer had
the indiscretion to look at the money which
Lucien had given to poverty.
He had put a gold louis into the child's hand.
Washington.
W. HAMILTON SPENCE.
Used by permission of the author.
THE five years following the final separation
of the colonies have been called the critical
period of American History. Imperial Unity
had departed : National Unity had not taken its
place. Local interests prevailed. State selfish-
ness manifested itself in violence. There were
disputes about territory ; there was collapse of
public spirit. Grievances and discontent were
rife. Commerce was almost ruined by war and
currency. There was groaning under public and
private debt. Men were dragged to the debtor's
prison. Gambling speculation flourished. Re-
pudiation was whispered. Scarcity appeared ;
and with it bread riots. Law-loving mass broke
out in rebellion. Anarchy seemed at hand.
WA SUING TON. 9 3
To cruard against these dangers the Conven-
o o
tion was called of which Washington was presi-
dent. In it he arose and said : " It is too
probable that no plan we propose will be adopted.
Perhaps another dreadful conflict is to be sus-
tained. If, to please the people, we offer what
we ourselves disapprove, how can we afterwards
defend our work? Let us raise a standard to
which the wise and honest can repair; the event
is in the hand of God."
But dissensions, strifes, differences as to taxa-
tion and representation threatened to destroy
the foundations of the new national edifice.
When the vote on the constitution came to be
taken, sixteen of the delegates withdrew, while
others remained to prophesy civil war, or scent
tyranny and despotism. Some foretold war
because the constitution was too weak ; others
prophesied disaster because the enmities of
leaders were so intense. Adams felt compelled
to appeal to the patriotism of another age
because of the political baseness of some.
Then having formulated the constitution, the
members went forth to pacify towns and villages
torn with discussion regarding its adoption.
Jay was hanged in effigy. Hamilton was stoned
in the streets. England gave the constitution
five years in which to effect a revolution.
France was a volcano shaking institutions to the
ground, and covering the remains with embers
94 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
and ashes. Strife raged on land and sea. Surely
no propitious time for that prescience of vision,
that calmness and judiciousness of thought
essential to the conception and realization of a
peaceful and permanent nation.
But amid the din of arms, the strife of tongues,
there was one who stood forth
" Like some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm.
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread
Eternal sunshine settles on its head."
That cliff was Washington. Said Randolph :
" There is but one character which keeps them
in awe ! — Washington ! '
Another thing that made the cementing of
the states an Herculean task was the heterogene-
ous character of the population ; and the diffi-
culty of communication that always fosters
prejudices, provincialism and individual selfish-
ness. There was great divergence in blood,
education, antecedents. There were those who
had come to America for conscience sake, and
those inspired by adventure. These had nothing
in common. Then, too, the land was often poor ;
and poverty keeps the eyes on self-interests alone.
Men and women worked together in the field.
The evenings were spent in mending shoes,
hammering out nails or tools, and in spinning or
weaving cloth. It was the period of flint and
fireplaces. No lamps, no matches, no stoves ;
WASHING TON. 9 5
no asylums or hospitals ; no modern conveniences
for work or house; no agricultural implements;
no pavements, street-lamps, cars, libraries, or
galleries. Little to foster the broad outlook, the
sense of essential dependence necessary to unit}'.
To make a homogeneous whole of this was the
o
task and the reward of Washington. In the
darkest hour, he alone saw rifts in the clouds,
making his calmness and hope the refutation of
skeptics. With masterly tact he dovetailed
unlikes together, curbed the spirit of party
strife, inspired singleness of heart into state-
councils, honesty into government, provided
equality of privilege for rich and poor. Greater
than he who found a city of brick and left it
stone, he found a nation of atoms and left it
granite. He was the hub in which all the radiat-
ing spokes were united and held ; the cement
in which all the repellent elements of the forma-
tive period were embedded. He aroused the
sense of mutual dependence in the states, which
came to see in him, not a star in their firma-
ment, but in their national system.
In the universe there are two opposite forces
at work — the centrifugal and the centripetal.
\\\ the centrifugal, everything in our solar sys-
tem is repelled from a common centre ; by the
centripetal everything is* drawn toward a common
centre.
Had the centrifugal absolute sway, each planet
96 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
would fly off in a tangent, become totally inde-
pendent, and the universe lose the coherence by
virtue of which it is a perfectly balanced system.
Had the centripetal absolute sway, the various
planets would soon lose their individuality,
and the whole settle down upon and become
merged into one all-including mass.
But by exactness in the balance of these two
opposite forces the universe is not an agglomera-
tion of planets, but a system, each planet revolv-
ing in its own orbit, occupying an undisputed
sphere, contributing something to the splendor
of the whole, and all revolving in harmony divine
about a common centre — the sun.
In that somewhat chaotic and wholly formative
period of our national life these two elemental
forces were at work.
Jefferson was the centrifugal force — the cham-
pion and exponent of it. As the advocate of
state rights and individual freedom ; as the
author of the " Kentucky Resolutions ' which
became a precedent and authority for all subse-
quent secession doctrines of the Eastern States,
for the nullification proceedings of South Caro-
lina, almost, if not quite for the rebellion of '61 ;
as the interpreter of the Constitution as a con-
tract between independent parties, not binding
upon one of them beyond its distinct stipula-
tions ; as the champion of a " general government
reduced to a very simple organization, with a few
WASHINGTON. 97
plain duties to be performed hy a fe\v servants'
-had his theories held undisputed s\vay, it is
difficult to see ho\v a federal League could have
heen transformed into a nation. il unit, or the
nation heen more than a rope of sand.
On the other hand, Hamilton was the centripe-
tal force. The whole tendency of his mind
was toward centralization.
With but one object in life — strength, order,
national force: as the persistent developer of the
" implied powers ' of the constitution first sei/ed
by him, and in which he found everything he
needed to effect his theories provided his progn
was not arrested ; as the advocate of an aristo-
cratic as distinguished from a democratic repub-
lic, in which the choice of president and senators
should be committed to a class qualified to vote
on a property basis, and in which the chief
executive should appoint the governors of the
various states, who should have a veto on all
state legislation — principles he never lost faith in
and were deepened by conflicts arising from the
French Revolution — it is not difficult to see that
although purely republican, had his theories had
absolute sway, our constitution had conformed
too nearly to the British model for our conditions
j
and development, while by such treatment of
states, an over-centralized national government
had entirely superseded the Confederate form.
There stood these t\vo men over against each
o
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
other with their policies, parties, and purposes,
like the two elemental centrifugal and centripetal
forces of the planetary system, each admiring
what the other feared, and despising what the
other admired.
But between these two, admitting both to his
cabinet, rising above party more than any other
statesman in our history, leaning on and learning
from each, yet with his master-hand upon both ;
with his marvelous balance of intellectual
qualities giving him almost an unerring judg-
ment, stood Washington, mediating, restraining
excesses, preserving the equilibrium, until out of
this chaotic condition came a planet-like system
of states, each revolving in its own orbit, each
contributing to the lustre of the whole, and all
revolving around a centre of unity — the Federal
Sun — " forever singing as they shine, the hand
that made us is divine." Modern ^neas that he
was, he safely steered the ship of state in whose
hold lay a nation's destiny, between the Scylla of
excessive centralization on the one hand and the
Charybdis of state individualism on the other.
And now, thou Father of our country, great
soldier, greater statesman, greatest American
citizen ; first to rise above the colonial spirit and
reach the conception of a broad nationality, at
this, the beginning of a new century, we bring
thee, not thirteen states — thy thirteen children-
jealous, disaffected, impoverished — but a nation
JERKY, Tin-: HOHB/X-BUY.
of states that only oceans can bound, mutually
hrlpful, united, one and inseparable forever, but
still thy children ; a family so multiplied and
fruitful it promises to replenish and subdue the
earth ; we bring thee representatives of every
kindred and clime and tongue who have learned
to call thee " Father " ; we bring to thee the
islands of the sea, on whose altars the victims of
tyranny shall bleed no more, and we trust that
from thy higher height than that which overlooks
the broad Potomac we may receive thy Fatherly
benediction : " Well done, good and faithful ;
thou shalt be made ruler over many."
Jerry, The Bobbin-Boy.
ADAPTED.
IT was almost morning. Already the black-
curtain, rent here and there by a furious wind,
was slowly lifting toward the east ; and I lie dull
gray dawn appearing formed a sombre back--
ground, upon which the leafless trees that fringed
the far-away hills were painted in waving
silhouette.
The swinging signboards in front of small
taverns creaked and groaned dismally ; the tall
chimney of the \Yatterson mill rocked threaten-
ingly.
Ever since the sun had oniUN-BOY. 1 03
that it was not until the croud turned their eyes
upward, and saw the one who had answered, that
they fairly understood the reply.
Running from a third-story window of the
lower mill across the river, above the dam, was
a long, endless chain used to convey power from
the mighty water-wheel of the mills to the
machinery of a little box-factory located on the
opposite bluff. The chain was at rest now, and
there appeared at the window near it the figure
of a boy in a blue blouse, carrying in his hands
an ax. He it was who had said, " I will go! '
When the people saw him and realized what
he was about to attempt, for already he had
fastened a rope around his body and was passing
the other end over the chain, evidently with the
intention of sliding along the same until he found
a point where he could lower himself to within
reach of the timber — when they realized this, a
great murmur went up from the crowd, and the
women cried out in terror, while many turned to
Mr. Watterson and urged him to order the boy
back.
"Who is he?" said the proprietor, in a dazed
way.
" It's Jerry, sir. Jerry, the bobbin-boy," said
a man stepping forward. "An orphan, sir, an*
strivin' to care for his sick sister."
"Jerry! Is it Jerry?" cried Mr. Watterson,
turning quickly. "Then he shall not go!" and
IO4 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
he waved his hand, and shouted toward the win-
dow, " Go back ! Go back ! '
But already it was too late, for, with a little
cry, the boy dropped from his perch and hung
swinging above the roaring, grinding ice, the rope
which supported him sliding downward along the
chain toward the centre of the dam. The breath-
less crowd, the terror-stricken proprietor, could
only watch and wait now.
Slowly and unevenly the looped rope from which
Jerry was suspended slipped, link by link, down
the sagging chain ; slowly his feet neared the
great mass of ragged ice beneath. At length,
when he was directly over the centre of the dam,
and just above the long beam which held the jam,
allowing the rope to slide quickly through his
hands, he dropped lightly upon the timber he
had come to cut.
At the sight the sympathetic crowd broke into
a wild cheer, both men and women; but Jerry
wasted no time listening. A moment, half a
moment, lost might mean destruction to the mills,
and before the echo of the shouting had ceased
he was plying his ax with vigorous strokes, that
rang sharp and clear above the crumbling ice and
gathering waters.
It was not a long task. The strain upon the
timber already was enormous, and ere the lad
had dealt a half a score of blows an ominous,
crackling sound warned him that his errand was
accomplished, and that he must be gone.
, ///A />v/.v>Y.\'-AG>r. 105
Dropping the ax, lie turned, seized the dan-
gling rope, and began to climb toward the chain
above, when, with a shock like the report of a
cannon, the beam gave way, and, in an instant, in
the twinkling of an eye, the air was filled with a
horrible roaring, and the imprisoned waters burst
the bounds which had confined them, and in one
impetuous, boiling flood rushed over the dam,
tossing the great cakes of ice that had formed
the barrier high on the frothing waves — so high
that they hid from sight the form of poor Jerry;
and there went up from all the people a single
cry : " The boy is lost ! '
But the jam was broken! The mills were
saved !
* *• •* •* * * *
And Jerry was saved too! Bruised and
stunned and bleeding, hanging half sensible above
the black waters that swept with a swift curve
toward the fall, when the ice that had buffeted
him had passed away the watchers saw that the
boy still lived ; and quicker than it can be told a
boat was procured and manned, a loner line made
A C3
fast to it, and, dropping down the stream until
they were close to him, tender hands were up-
raised, loving voices called, and with a long,
sobbing cry the little hero loosed his grasp upon
the rope and dropped, fainting, into the waiting
arms below.
IO6 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
The Mount of Laws.
HALL CAINE.
ADAPTED.
THE lonely valley of Thingvellir, in southern
Iceland, was alive one early morning with a
great throng of people. Troup after troup
flowed into the vast amphitheatre that lies be-
tween dark hills and great jokulls tipped with
snow. Near the middle of the plain stood the
Mount of Laws, a lava island, surrounded by a
stream, and bounded by overhanging walls cut
deep with fissures.
Around this Mount the people gathered. It
was a vast assembly, chiefly of men, in their
homespun and sheepskins and woolen stockings,
cross-gartered with hemp from ankle to knee.
It was the hour for the business of Althing to
begin, but the Governor had not arrived. The
whisper went round that by his tardy coming
he meant to humiliate them. At that the people
began to mutter among themselves and such hot
protests were made that presently the door of
the little place, wherein the Thingmen were wont
to gather, was thrown open and six and thirty
Thingmen came out.
Then followed the solemn ceremonies that
had been observed on the spot for nigh a
thousand years. The Bishop. offered prayer for
the sitting of Althing. Then the Judge, holding
THE MOUNT OF LAWS. 1O/
his sword erect, read his charge and ivpi-aled
his oath, to deal justly between man aiul man
even as the sword stood upright before him.
No sooner, however, had he begun to promulgate
the new laws, when there was an uneasy mo\< -
ment at the outskirts of the crowd to the west of
the Mount.
" The Governor," whispered one !
It was indeed he, even now pushing his way
through the closely packed people, who saw
him coming, but stood together like a wall until
riven apart by his pony's feet. At the causeway
he dismounted and stepped up to the top of the
Mount. He looked old and feeble, and torn by
evil passions; his straight gray hair hung like a
blasted sheaf onto his shoulders, his forehead
was blistered with blue veins, his cheeks were
guttered with wrinkles, his little eyes were cruel,
and his jaw was broad and heavy, and his mouth
hard and square.
A moment he stood there silent, then he
exclaimed, " Chief Justice, I have something to
say. Michael Sunlocks, the rebel and traitor
who once usurped the government of this island,
has escaped from the Krisuvik sulphur mines.
Men of Iceland, I call on you to take him. I
call on you to help the Crown of Denmark-.
Chief Justice, adjourn this Althing so that
every man here present may go out in search of
him.' Then a loud involuntary murmur of
IOS NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
dissent rose from the people, and at the same
moment the Judge said, "Your Excellency,
every other year fora thousand years Althing
has met on this ancient ground, but never once
since it began has the thing you ask been done.
This day is ours by ancient right and custom,
and we ask you to step back and let us go on."
At that the Governor faced the crowd. " Men
of Iceland, you know the man who has escaped.
You know he is not one of yourselves, but a
bastard Englishman. I will put a price on his
head. I will give ten thousand kroner for the
man who takes him alive, and twenty thousand
kroner — do you hear me? — twenty thousand
for the man who takes him dead." He would
have said more, but his tongue seemed suddenly
paralyzed and his wide eyes fixed themselves
on something at the outskirts of the crowd.
" There," he said in a smothered cry. It was
Red Jason, an escaped convict of the Krisuvik
sulphur mines carrying Michael Sunlocks across
his breast and shoulders. His bronzed cheeks
were worn, his sunken eyes burned with a dull
fire. He strode on, erect and strong, through
the riven way of men and women. When he
came to the foot of the Mount, he let Sunlocks
drop gently to the ground. Sunlocks was insens-
ible, and his piteous, white face looked up at
the heavy dome of the sky. A sensation of awe
held the vast crowd spellbound.
THE MOUNT Ot LAWS. 109
Then in th.it breathless silence, Jason stood
erect and said, " You kno\v \\lio 1 am. All of
yon think me a sort of wild beast among men.
That is \vliy you caged in . Would to (iod you
could know by bitter proof \vhat he has suffered.
Where is your Michael Snnlocks, that I may tell
him ? ' Then the people drew a deep breath,
for the}' saw in an instant what had befallen
these two men in the dread shaping of their fate.
"Where is he?' cried Jason again. And then
the Judge said, " Don't you know the man
you've brought here ?' "No — yes — yes," cried
Jason. "My brother in suffering — my brother in
misery-J-that's all I know or care. But where
is your Michael Sunlocks? I have something to
say to him. Where is he?'
The Governor had recovered himself by this
time and said with a cruel smile, " Fool that you
are and have been, that's where your Michael
Sunlocks is." There was a moment of silence,
in which the vast crowd trembled as one man
with wonder and dismay. Then Jason rai.-ed
his right hand to cover his face, as the dark-
truth swept over him ; that his yoke-fellow had
been Michael Sunlocks, — that his life-long enemy
had been his life's sole friend. It was a terrible
discovery, and Jason reeled under the shock of
it like a beast that is smitten to death. While
he stood there, half deaf, swaying to and fro as
if the earth rocked about him, he was recalled {»
1 10 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
himself by a dull hum of words that seemed to
be spoken from the Mount. Some one was ask-
ing why he had come there, and brought
Michael Sunlocks. He lifted his hand, partly to
call attention and partly to steady himself, and
in a broken voice he said these words: — " Men
and women, you know what I am — a sort of
bastard who has never been a man among men,
but has walked alone all the days of his life.
Another woman supplanted my mother and her
son supplanted me, so I vowecl to kill him. I
had never once set eyes on my enemy. By what
chance I do not know, but in that hell to which
you sent me, where all names are lost and no
man may know his yoke-fellow except by his face
if he has seen it, I met with one who became my
friend, my brother, my second self. I loved him,
as one might love a little child. And he loved
me — yes, me — I could swear it. I have brought
him here and he is Michael Sunlocks. My
brother in suffering is my brother in blood.
The man I vowed to slay is the man I tried to
save.'
There was a dead hush for a moment, and
then the Judge said, " Why have you brought
Michael Sunlocks here? Speak ! ' Jason stood
silent for a moment and then said, " I too am
an Icelander, and this is our Ancient Mount of
Laws, the sacred ground of our fathers and of
our fathers' fathers, for a thousand vears, and I
TV/A MOUNT OF LAWS. \ I I
have heard th.'it if any one is wronged and <>p-
pressed and unjustly punished, let him but find
Ills way to this place, and though he be the
meanest slave that wipes his forehead, yet he
will be a man among you all. I have also heard
that this Mount, on this day, is as the gate of the
ancient city in old time, when judges sat to
judge the people ; and that he who is permitted
to set foot on it, and cross it, though he were as
guilty as the outlaws that hide in the desert, is
innocent and free forever after. Answer me — is
it true? '
" Yes ! yes ! ' came from a thousand throats.
"Then, judges of Iceland, fellow-men, do you
ask me why I have brought this man to this
place? Look at his bleeding hand. It has been
pierced by a nail. Look at these poor eyes-
they are blind. Do you know what that means?
It means hellish barbarity and damned tyranny.
What crime and what condition deserves punish-
ment that is worse than death and hell ? "
" None, none," shouted a thousand voices.
There was a low rumble as of thunder. The
people turned pallid with dismay, but Jason's
face was lit up with a wild frenzy. " Do you
hear it ? It is the voice that was heard when
these old hills were formed and the valleys ran
like fire. It is the voice of the Almighty God
calling on you." The word was like a war-cry.
The people answered it with a shout, but Jason's
112 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
voice pealed over their heads. " Vengeance is
God's but mercy belongs to man." He stooped
to Michael Sunlocks, picked him up in his
arms as if he had been a child, turned his face
towards the Mount and cried, " Let me pass! "
Then at one impulse the Judge and Bishop
made a way, and Jason, carrying Michael Sun-
locks, strode up the causeway and swept through.
" Free ! free ! " was the mighty shout that rose
from that great assembly and seemed to rend
the heavy sky.
The powers of God and the powers of evil had
wrestled together in Jason's heart for mastery.
But the moment of their struggle was ended, and
love had conquered hate in that big heart for-
ever and forever.
The Archbishop's Christmas Gift.
ROBERT BARR.
Abridged by permission of the Author.
ARRAS, blacksmith and armorer, stood at the
door of his hut, in the valley of the Alf, on a
summer evening. He was the most powerful
man in all the Alt-thai and few could lift the
iron sledge-hammer, which he wielded, as if it
were a toy. Arras had twelve sons, scarcely less
stalwart than himself, some of whom helped
77/A AA'( WOP'S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 113
him in his occupation of blacksmith and armorer,
while the others tilled the land near by.
The blacksmith heard coming up the vallry
the hoof-beats of a horse and his quick, ex-
perienced ear told him, distant though the
animal yet \vas, that one of its shoes was loose.
As the hurrying rider came within call the black-
smith shouted to him in stentorian tones:
" Friend, pause a moment until I fasten again
the shoe on your horse's hoof."
" I cannot stop," was the brief answer.
" Then your animal will go lame," rejoined the
blacksmith.
" Better lose the horse than an empire," re-
plied the rider, hurrying on.
li Now, what does that mean ? " said the black-
smith to himself.
Some time after, Arras, again standing at the
door of his smithy, heard coming from the castle,
the click of the broken shoe ; but this time the
rider drew up before him and said :
" The offer of help which you tendered me I
shall now be glad to accept. Do your work well,
and know that in performing it you are obliging
the Archbishop of Treves."
The armorer raised his cap at the mention of
the august name.
" You said something," spoke up the smith,
" of loss of empire as you rode by. I trust there
N no disquieting news from Treves."
114 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" Disquieting enough," replied the messenger.
" The Hungarians have crossed the Rhine and
are now about to make their way through the de-
files of the Eifel into this valley, intending then
to march upon Treves, lay that ancient city
in ruin and carry havoc over the surrounding
country. A hundred men could hold them in
check while they are passing through the narrow
ravine of the Eifel ; but you breed a scurry set of
nobles in the All-thai, for Count Bertrich disdains
the command of his overlord, to rise at the head
of his men and stay the progress of the invader,
until the archbishop can come with the army to
his assistance."
" Now out upon the drunken count for a base
coward ! ' cried the armorer in anger. " May
his castle be sacked and himself hanged on the
highest turret, for refusing aid to his overlord in
time of need. I and my twelve sons know every
defile, ravine, pass, rock, and cave, in the Eifel.
Would the archbishop, think you, accept the
aid of such underlings as we, whose only com-
mendation is that our hearts are as stout as our
sinews ? '
" What better warranty could the archbishop
ask than that?' replied the envoy. " If you
can hold back the Hungarians for four or five
days, then I doubt not that whatever you ask of
the archbishop will be speedily granted."
" We shall ask nothing," cried Arras, "but his
y •///•: ARcimrsiiors CHRISTMAS GIFT. 115
blessing, and be deeply honored in receiving
* A * '
It.
Whereupon the blacksmith \vent to the door
of his hut and smote a hanging iron with his
sledge until the clangorous reverberation echoed
through all the valley, and presently there came
hurrying to him, eight of his stalwart sons, who
had been occupied in tilling the fields.
" Scatter ye," cried the blacksmith, " over all
the land. Rouse the people and tell them the
Hungarians are upon us. Urge all to collect here
at the smithy with whatever of arms or weapons
they may be possessed. Tell them they are
called by an order from the Archbishop of Treves
himself, and that I shall lead them. Tell them
they fight for their homes, their wives and their
children. And now, away !
Long before midnight the peasants came strag-
gling to the smithy from all quarters, and by
daylight the blacksmith had led them over the
volcanic hills, to the lip of the tremendous pass,
through which the Hungarians must come.
o o
They had little fear that the numerous Hun-
garians could scale the precipitous walls and deci-
mate their scanty band.
When the Hungarian army appeared the
blacksmith and his men rolled great stones and
rocks down upon them, practically annihilating
the advance guard and throwing the whole army
into confusion. The week's struggle that fol-
I 1 6 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
lowed forms one of the most exciting episodes in
German history. Again and again the Hun-
garians attempted the pass, but nothing could
withstand the avalanche of stone and rocks with
which they were overwhelmed. (Nevertheless
the devoted little band did not have things all
o
their own way. They were so few and they
had to keep such close watch night and day,
that before the week was out many turned
longing eyes in the direction from which the
archbishop's army was expected to come.) It
was not until the seventh day that help arrived
and then the archbishop's forces speedily put
to flight the now demoralized Hungarians and
chased them once more across the Rhine.
" There is nothing now left for us to do," said
the blacksmith to his little following, " so I will
get back to my forge and you to your farms."
And this, without more ado, they did
Arras and his twelve sons were at their noon-
day meal, when an imposing cavalcade rode up
to the smithy at the head of which procession
was the archbishop, who said :
" Blacksmith Arras, you and your sons would
not wait for me to thank you, so I now come to
you, that in the presence of all these followers
of mine I may pay fitting tribute to your loyalty
and your great bravery.
"Thanks cost little and are easily bestowed.
I hope, however, to have a Christmas present
mi-: AKcunisiiors CHRISTMAS GIFT. 1 17
for you which will show the whole country round
how much I esteem true valor."
At the mouth of the Alf-thal, somewhat back
from the small village of Alf, stands o conical
hill that completely commands the valley. The
archbishop put some hundreds of men at work
and erected on the top of this hill a strong castle
which was the wonder of the country. The
year was Hearing its end when this great strong-
hold was completed, and it began to be known
throughout the land that the archbishop intended
to hold high Christinas revel there, and had
invited to the castle all the nobles in the
country, while the chief guest was no other
than the emperor himself. The blacksmith
and his twelve sons also received notification to
attend at the castle and enjoy the week's fes-
tivities. Arras was commanded to come in his
leathern apron and to bring his huge sledge-
hammer with him.
It had been rumored among the nobles that
the emperor would not permit the archbishop
to sully the caste of Knighthood, by asking the
barons to recognize or hold converse with one
in so humble station of life. Indeed had it been
otherwise, Count Bertrich, who had remained
drinking in his castle while the blacksmith
fought for the land, was resolved to speak out
boldly to the emperor, upholding the privileges
1 1 8 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
of his class and protesting against insult to it in
the presence of the blacksmith.
At Christmas, when all assembled in the great
hall, they found at the centre of the long side wall
a magnificent throne erected with a dais in front
of it, and on this throne sat the emperor in state,
while at his right hand stood the lordly arch-
bishop and elector of Treves. But what was
more disquieting they beheld also the blacksmith
standing before the dais some distance in front
of the emperor, clad in his leathern apron,
with his big brawny hands folded over the top
of the handle of his huge sledge-hammer. Be-
hind him ranged his twelve sons. There were
deep frowns on the brows of the nobles when
they saw this, and after kneeling and protesting
their loyalty to the emperor, they stood aloof
and apart, leaving a clear space between them-
selves and the plebeian blacksmith.
When the salutations to the emperor had
been given, the archbishop took a step forward
on the dais and in a clear voice said :
" My lords, I have invited you here that you
may have the privilege of doing honor to a
brave man. I ask you to salute the blacksmith
Arras, who, when his country was in danger,
crushed the invaders as effectually as ever his
right arm, wielding sledge, crushed hot iron."
A red flush of confusion overspread the face of
the blacksmith, but loud murmurs broke out
TIH-: AKcuiusiiors CHRIS r.M AS GIFT. 1 19
among the nobility and none stepped forward to
salute him. One indeed stepped forward, but it
was to appeal to the emperor.
" Y<>ur majesty," said Count Bertrich, " this is
an unwarranted breech of our privileges. It is
not meet that \ve, holding noble names, should
be asked to consort with an untitled blacksmith.
I appeal to your majesty against the archbishop
under the feudal law."
All eyes turned upon the emperor, who, after a
pause, spoke and said :
11 Count Bertrich is right and I sustain his
appeal."
An expression of triumph came into the red
bibulous face of Count Bertrich, and the nobles
shouted joyously.
" The emperor ! The emperor !
The archbishop, however, seemed in no way
nonplussed by his defeat, but said, addressing the
armorer :
" Advance, Blacksmith, and do homage to the
emperor."
When the blacksmith knelt before the throne,
the emperor, taking his jeweled sword from his
side, smote him lightly on his broad shoulders
saying,
" Arise, Count Arras, noble of the German
empire, and first lord of the Alf-thal."
The blacksmith rose slowly to his feet, bowed
120 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
lowly to the emperor and backed to the place
where he had formerly stood.
The look of exultation faded from the face of
Count Bertrich, and was replaced by one of dis-
may, for he had been, till that moment, himself,
first lord of the Alf-thal.
" My lords," once more spoke up the arch-
bishop, " I ask you to salute Count Arras, first
lord of the Alf-thal."
No noble moved and again Count Bertrich
appealed to the emperor.
" Are we to receive on terms of equality," he
said, "a landless man, a count of a blacksmith's
hut, a first lord of the forge? For the second
time I appeal to your majesty against such an
outrage."
The emperor replied calmly,
" Again I support the appeal of Count Bert-
rich."
There was this time no applause from the
surrounding nobles, for many of them had some
smattering idea of what was next to happen,
although the muddled brain of Count Bertrich
o
gave him no intimation of it.
" Count Arras," said the archbishop, " I
promised you a Christmas gift when last I met
you at your smithy door. I now bestow upon
you and your heirs forever, this Castle of Burg
Arras and the lands adjoining it. I ask you to
hold it well and faithfully as you held the pass
THE AKClUiiSlI^rs CHKISJMAS GIFT. I- I
of the Eifcl. My lords," continued the arch-
bishop, turning to the nobles with a riii;.; of
menace in his voice, " I ask you to salute Count
Arras, your equal in title, your equal in posses-
sions, and the superior of any of you in patriotism
and bravery. If any noble, question his COIUM
let him neglect to give Count of Burg Arras his
title and salutation as he passes before him."
One by one, the nobles passed and saluted,
Count Bertrich hanging back until the last ; then
as he passed the ne\v Count of Burg Arras he
hissed at him, with a look of rage, the single
word " Blacksmith."
The Count of Burg Arras, stirred to sudden
anger, and forgetting in whose presence he stood,
swung his huge sledge-hammer round his head
and brought it down on the armored back of
Count Bertrich, roaring the word " Anvil ! '
The armor splintered like crushed ice, and
Count Bertrich fell prone on his face and lay there.
There was instant cry of " Treason, treason,"
and shouts of " No man may draw arms in the
emperor's presence."
" My lord Emperor," cried the Count of Burg
Arras, " I crave pardon if I have done amiss.
Your majesty lias said that I am a count. This
man having heard your majesty's word proclaims
me blacksmith, and so gives the lie to his
emperor. For this I struck him and would
again even though he stood before the throne in
122 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
a palace, or the altar in a cathedral. If that be
treason, take from me your honors and let me
back to my forge."
"You have broken no tenet of the feudal law,"
said the emperor. " You have broken nothing,
I trust, but the count's armor, for, as I see he is
arousing himself, doubtless no bones are broken.
The feudal law does not regard a blacksmith's
hammer as a weapon. And as for treason, Count
of Burg Arras, may my throne always be sur-
rounded by such treason as yours."
And for centuries after, the descendants of the
blacksmith were Counts of Burg Arras and held
the castle of that name, whose ruins to-day attest
the excellence of the archbishop's building.
An Imperial Secret.
ALEXANDER DUMAS.
A true incident of one of the earlier Russian Emperors.
FOR two years I had been an ensign in the
Paulovsky Regiment. Emperor Paul I. was in
the third year of his reign, and lived at the Red
Palace.
One night I had retired to my room and had
fallen into the semi-unconsciousness of my first
sleep. I was aroused by the rough voice of a
man whose voice was close to mine and who
whispered in my ear.
AN IMTEKIAL Sl-.CKK T. 123
" Dmitri-Alexandrovitch, awake, and follow
me ! ' I opened my eyes. A man stood before
me whom I did not know and who had so
suddenly brought me back to the world.
" Follow you, and where ? " I exclaimed.
" I cannot tell you. Sufficient for you to
know it is by order of the Emperor." My blood
froze. By order of the Emperor! What could
he wish from me, a poor ensign ?
Through my mind ran the awful Russian
proverb, " Near to the Czar, near to death."
There was no time to hesitate. I sprang from
my bed and dressed myself. I looked with keen
attention at the man who had summoned me.
He was wrapped in a great fur pelisse, but I
believed I could recognize in him the Turkish
slave, the favorite servant of the Emperor.
" I am read}-," I said at the end of five
minutes, clapping my hand with some confidence
on the sword that hung at my side. My fears
were redoubled when my guide, instead of taking
the corridor that led from the barracks to the
open air, descended by a little circular staircase
into the lower vaults of this sombre building.
He lighted the way with a smoky lantern.
At the end of five hundred paces our progress
was stopped by an iron gate. My guide drew a
key from his pocket, opened the grill and closed it
behind us. \\ e continued on our way. Pres-
ently we found ourselves at the foot of the small
124 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
staircase which we ascended. It brought us into
one of a number of small apartments where the
atmosphere was such that I realized that I was
ina building intended for human habitation, but
I never realized that I was being conducted to
the Emperor. We had reached the last door and
before it stood a sentinel. My guide, placing his
hand on my shoulder, said :
" Be quiet ; you are now to see the Emperor ! '
He whispered a word to the sentinel. The
sentinel opened the door, not by placing a key
in the lock, but by means of a secret spring. I
stepped into the room.
A man, short of stature, dressed in the Prussian
uniform, his high boots of the softest leather, a
long coat falling below his knees, was in the
chamber. I recognized the Emperor.
" Sire," said my guide, bowing low, " here is
the young ensign with whom you wished to
speak."
The Emperor approached me, and, as he was
much shorter than I, he raised himself on his toes
and looked at me intently. Then turning on his
heel, he said, " Go ! '
My guide, bowing again, withdrew and left me
alone with the Emperor. I would quite as will-
ingly have been left alone with a lion. Finally
he came toward me and said : " You know that
when I give an order I am to be obeyed without
hesitation, without remark, without thought ! '
AN IMPERIAL SEC RE T. 1 2 5
" As one would obey God ; yes, Sire, I know
that."
He went to the desk, took a document lying
there, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, then
returned to me.
" I wish you to know that from a thousand, I
h.ive chosen you to carry out my orders," said
he, " because I think you will execute them
properly."
" I shall always have before me the consciousness
of the obedience I owe my Emperor," I replied.
" Good ! good ! and remember that you are no
more than earth, and that I am everything. I !
I!"
" I await the orders of Your Majesty."
" Take this letter to the Governor of the
fortress, go with him where he will direct you,
assist him in what he will do, return to me and
say, ' I have seen.'
I took the paper and bowed.
" I have seen, you understand. I have seen ! '
" Yes, Sire."
. "Go! "
" Come ! ' said my guide. A troup of cavalry
was stationed in the court. We galloped across
the great square and reached the banks of the
Neva. When we climbed up the bank of the
river and found ourselves again on firm earth, we
were at the gates of the fortress.
The Governor had rctin-d, but he quickly
126 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
appeared in response to the all-powerful sum-
mons :
" By order of the Emperor ! '
Without a word, I handed him the order. He
read it once, he looked at me, and then said :
" You have come here to see ? '
" I have come to see," I replied.
Then " Come and you shall see."
He walked down the corridor and I followed
him. A door-keeper came behind us. We con-
tinued thus till we reached the outer walls of
the prison. There the Governor stopped ancl
pointed to a door. The jailer opened it, passed
in ahead of us, lighting the way with a lantern
and we followed, through many galleries, in the
lower one of which were many doors, all of them
numbered. The Governor walked directly to
that which bore the figure n. The temperature
was far below freezing, and the cold was mingled
with a dampness which penetrated to the bone.
We found ourselves in a cell eight feet square.
"The light," he said to the jailer.
The jailer directed the flame from his lantern
into the corner of the cell
There I saw, crouched upon a pile of rags, a
thin, pale, and aged man, with long white hair
and beard. Doubtless he had entered this cell
dressed in the clothes he wore when he had been
arrested, but they had long since dropped off
him, piece by piece, and he now shivered in the
A. \' IMPERIAL SKCKKT.
cold, protected only by a ra^grd quilt. Beneatli
the light of the lantern his almost naked body
looked shrunken and bony. Possibly he had
been clothed in splendid robes, possibly insignia
of the most noble orders had covered his breast ;
to-day he existed without rank : his dignity, even
his name were lost — he was known merely as
Number 1 1.
At the order of the Governor, the man arose,
covering his nakedness as well as he could with
the tattered garment and without uttering a
word. His body was bent, weakened by con-
finement, by the dampness, by age, by the
gloom, by hunger. But his eye was fiery and
defiant — almost menacing.
" It is well," said the Governor. " Come ! '
The Governor stepped into the gallery first.
The prisoner looked for the last time about his
cell, on his stone pillow, on his cruse of water, on
his straw mattress. He followed the Governor
and passed before me, and I shall never forget
the look he gave me, so full of reproach was it.
I came out behind him ; the jailer followed us
all and closed the door.
At the entrance to the Governor's apartments
we found the two squads of cavalry. They
placed the prisoner in the sleigh, the Governor
at his side. The second squad of four soldiers
followed behind.
Where were we going? Of that I was ignor-
128 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ant. What were we to do ? Of that I was also
ignorant. My orders were to say, " I have seen."
We went from the fortress at a rapid pace.
Sitting as I was on the forward seat of the sleigh,
the knees of the prisoner were between mine,
and I could feel them tremble. The Governor
was wrapped in his furs ; my heavy military coat
was buttoned up about my ears, and yet I shiv-
ered with the cold. The old man was naked, or
nearly so, and the Governor offered him nothing
to protect him from the freezing wind. I in-
voluntarily started to take off my coat and throw
it about him, but the Governor, divining my in-
tention, said :
" It is not permitted."
We recrossed the Neva, and when we had
reached the further side, we turned in the di-
rection of Cronstadt, keeping along on the ice of
the river. The wind came down from the Baltic
with awful violence ; splinters of ice cut our faces ;
one of those terrible snow-storms that exist only
in the Gulf of Finland was approaching.
Suddenly the snow-storm burst upon us. Our
horses reared, balked, and refused to go ahead.
Our drivers forced them forward by furious
blows of the whip.
What a night !
And the old man with his knees trembling
more and more between my own !
Finally we stopped. We had reached the spot
AN IMP1-.KIAL SECRET. 129
a distance below the city of St. Petersburg. The
Governor stepped from the sleigh and went back
to the four cavalry-men that were right behind
us. They had already dismounted, and each
man was holding in his hand the ax or crowbar
O
with which he had armed himself before leaving
the fortress.
"Cut a hole in the ice," the Governor said to
them.
I gave a cry of terror ; I began to understand.
" Ah ! " murmured the old man with a chilling
laugh, " the Empress has remembered me, then ?
I feared that she had forgotten me."
Of what Empress did he speak? Three Em-
presses had succeeded each other — Anne, Eliza-
beth, Catherine. It was evident that he still
believed that he was living under one of them,
and he was ignorant even of the name of him to
whom he owed his death.
" Get out," said the Governor to the old man,
as he turned toward him.
It was a needless order — the old man had al-
ready left the sleigh. He was upon his knees
upon the ice — in prayer. The Governor whis-
pered an order to the four soldiers, then he came
back and took his place beside me. I had not
left the sleigh. At the end of a minute, the old
man arose.
" I am ready," he said.
The four soldiers threw themselves upon him.
I3O NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
I turned my eyes away, but if I could not see, I
heard. I heard the sound of a body plunged
into the water. In spite of myself, I looked
back again.
The old man had disappeared. I forgot that
it did not rest with me to give orders, and I
shouted to the driver :
" Pachol ! Pachol ! "
" Stoi ! ' cried the Governor.
The sleigh, that had begun to move, instantly
stopped.
" It is not finished," the Governor said to me
in French.
" What more have we to do ? ' I asked.
" To wait," he responded.
We waited half an hour.
" The ice has formed again, Excellency," said
one of the soldiers.
" Solid ? ' demanded the Governor.
The man struck upon the ice with his ax ; the
water had become firm.
" Go," said the Governor.
The horses started at a gallop. They flew as
though the demon of torment pursued them ; in
less than ten minutes we were within the walls of
the fortress. My guide was waiting.
" To the Red Palace ! ' he said to the driver.
Five minutes later the door of the Emperor's
apartments opened and I passed within. He
was dressed as I had seen him a short time be-
/•///•; A / A ( 'A~ AY/. /. /•: A1. 1 3 1
fore. lie came forward and looked me in the
eyes.
" Well ? " he said.
" I have seen," I answered.
" You have seen, seen, seen ? '
" Look at me, Sire, and you will not doubt it,"
I said.
I stood before a glass. I saw myself. I was
pale, my features were drawn and haggard. I
hardly knew myself.
The Emperor looked at me intently, and with-
out a word he went to his desk, and took from it
a paper.
" I have given you," he said, " between Troitza
and Pereslof, an estate upon which dwell five
hundred peasants. Leave for there to-night and
never return to St. Petersburg. If you speak
you know how I can punish. Go ! '
I left. I have never returned to St. Peters-
burg, and this is the first time I have ever told
any living soul that which I have just recounted
to you.
The Black Killer.
ALFRED OLLIVANT.
Adapted from " Bob, Son of Battle." Used by permission
of the publishers, Doubleday and McClure Co.
In the north of England, where almost every farmer is a
shepherd, and where the sheep dog is as dear to his master
132 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
as any member of the family, there is much jealousy felt
over their respective herding qualities. James Moore was
justly proud of his dogs, for the fame of the gray dogs of
Kenmuir was everywhere known. " Aye, the gray dogs,
bless them," said Thomas Thornton who had served the
Moores for half a century. " Ye can na beat 'em no how,
I've known 'em ony time these sixty year, and never a bad
un yet, and Owd Bob is as good as any. A rare dog was
Owd Bob, dark gray, his long coat dashed here and there
with lighter touches. Upon his chest an escutcheon of
purest white. Perfectly compact, inimitably graceful, a gen-
tleman every inch. You could not help but stare at him —
Owd Bob of Kenmuir.
The nearest neighbor of Kenmuir was Adam McAdam,
a little Scotchman whose evil tongue and ways had made
him hated far and near. His only friend was his great dog
" Red Wullie," as fierce and evil as his master, and Mc-
Adam's hatred of James Moore and Owd Bob, who had
twice won the cup from him at the Dale Trials, was so great
that he brooded constantly on some method of revenge.
At this time, that terror to herders, the " Sheep Killer,"
had begun his havoc, and suspicion pointed to Red Wullie
as the murderer, but Adam McAdam would hear nothing
against his dog, and labored night and day to throw sus-
picion on Owd Bob.
In the meantime the "Killer" pursued his bloody trail
unchecked. Such a woeful season had never been known.
Loud were the curses and deep the vows for revenge, and
many a shepherd patrolled all night with his dogs, only to
find in the morning that the "Killer" had slipped in and
havoced in some secluded portion of his beat.
IT was the day of the Squire's annual banquet
to his tenants. Dusk was merging into darkness
as James Moore and his son, Andrew, left the
7 '//A /.'/. .-/ ( 'A' AY/. /. A A'. i 3 3
scene of festivities and started for home. As
they crossed the Silver Lea and trudged over
that familiar ground, the wind fluttered past
them in spasmodic gasps.
"There's trouble in the wind to-night," said
the Master.
"Aye ! " answered his laconic son.
j
A world of black was surging up from the
horizon, smothering the star-lit night and small
dark clouds like puffs of smoke detaching them-
selves from the main column were driving tem-
pestuously forward, — the vanguard of the storm.
The air was oppressed with a leaden blackness,
no glimpse of light on any hand, and as they be-
gan the ascent of the pass they reached out blind
hands to feel along the rock face. A few big
rain-drops splashed heavily down, the wind
raised with a leap and roared past them up the
rocky track. Wet and weary they battled on,
wondering whether O\vd Bob would come to
meet them.
"It's the ' Black Killer's ' night," panted the
Master. " I reckon he's out."
" Aye ! reckon he is," the boy gasped.
At length nigh spent, they topped the last and
steepest pitch of the pass and merged into
Devil's Bowl. There, overcome with their exer-
tions, they flung themselves on the soaking
ground to draw a breath. In front through the
o *r~>
lashing rain they could discern the hillocks that
134 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
squat hag-like round Devil's Bowl, and lying in
its bosom, its waters usually so still, plowed now
into a thousand furrows, the lone tarn. The
Master raised himself and craned forward at the
ghostly sight. Of a sudden he dropped as
though dead, forcing down Andrew with an iron
hand.
" Lad, did see?"
"Nay, what was't ? " the boy replied, roused
by his father's tone.
" There ! ' And Andrew looking with all his
eyes saw indeed. In front, by the fretting waters
of the tarn, packed into a solid phalanx, with
every head turned in one direction, was a flock
of sheep. They were motionless all intent, star-
ing with horror-bulging eyes, panting and pal-
pitating, yet they stood with their backs to the
water as though determined to sell their lives
dearly. Beyond them, not fifty yards away,
crouched the hump-back bowlder, and beneath
it were two black objects, one still struggling
feebly.
" The Killer ! ' gasped the boy, and all ablaze
with excitement he began forging forward.
" Steady, lad," urged the Master, laying a re-
straining hand on the boy's shoulder. " Follow,"
he ordered and began to creep silently forward,
and over the sodden ground they crept until the
swish of the rain on the waters of the tarn and
the sobbing of the flock warned them that they
y •///-. BLACK A v/. /. /•; A-. 135
were near. They skirted the trembling pack,
pressing so close as to brush the flanking sheep
and yet unnoticed, for the sheep were absorbed
in the tragedy in front, so the}- crept on hands
and knees, with hearts aghast and fluttering
breath, until of a sudden they could hear, right in
front of them, the smack and slobber of bloody
lips chewing their bloody meal.
" Say thy prayers, Red Wullic, for thy last
minute's come," muttered the Master. Then in
Andrew's ear, " When I rush, lad, follow."
For he thought when the moon was in, to rush
in on the great dog as he lay gorged and unsus-
picious, to deal him one terrible swashing blow,
and end forever the lawless doings of the tailless
Tyke. The moon flung open its vale of cloud.
White and cold it stared down into Devil's Bowl
on murderer and murdered. Within a hand's
cast of the avengers of the blood, crouched the
hump-backed bowlder. On the border of its
shadow lay a dead sheep and standing beside his
body, his coat all ruffled by the hand of the
storm, Owd Bob, Owd Bob of Kenmuir. Then the
light went in and darkness covered the land.
It was Owd Bob, there could be no mistake.
In the whole wide world there was but one Owd
Bob of Kenmuir, and in the darkness James
Moore was lying with his face pressed down that
he might not see. Once he raised himself and
cast a furtive glance like a murderer at the
136 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
gallow's tree at the scene in front. It was no
dream. Clear and cruel in the moonlight the
hump-backed bowlder, the dead sheep and that
gray figure, beautiful, motionless, damned for all
eternity. Then his head lolled down again and
the strong man was whimpering.
Suddenly a harsh cruel laugh smote on his ear,
"He, he, he, skuse me for laughing, Mr. Moore."
• A little man all wet and shrunken, sat hunched
on the mound above them rocking himself in the
agony of his mirth. It was Adam McAdam.
" Ye rascal, ye rogue ! ' and he shook his fist
at the unconscious gray dog.
" I owe ye another grudge for this," and
leaned back and shook himself in convulsive
mirth. The great man below him rose heavily
to his feet and stumbled toward the mocker, his
figure swaying from side to side like one in blind
delirium, and there was that on his face which
no one can mistake. Boy though he was, Andrew
knew it.
11 Fayther, Fayther, do e not, do e not," he
pleaded, running after his father and laying im-
potent hands on him, but the great man shook
him off like a fly, and rolled on with that awful
expression plain to see in the moonlight. In
front the little man squatted in the rain, bent
double still and took no thought to flee.
" Come on, James Moore, come on," he called,
malignant joy in his voice and something gleamed
77/A /; L A CK AY/. /, A A'. I 3 7
bri"ht in his rii/lit hand and \vas liid a I
" My companion, here, is a gentleman on his
\vay to tlic estate of Count de Koguin who is
soon, thev say, to can)' special messages from
our king to Sardinia. He lias, in his bosom, a
large treasure in gold, and in his boots, both of
which have false soles, he carries a magnificent
suite of diamonds."
De Cheauvelins uttered a fiery curse, and
turned upon the captain as if about to run him
through. " Coward and traitor," he panted, when
the robber succeeded in restraining him. " Get
out of the carriage," said the latter, " and take
off your outer clothing and boots."
With a dismal countenance, foaming and blas-
pheming in an undertone, the old man obeyed.
But he no sooner touched the ground than he
turned upon the robber who held the pistol, and
made a desperate onset. The man fired, but
ineffectually ; and now both villains with drawn
swords engaged old de Cheauvelins, and the
clang and clash of steel rang out fiercely, mingled
with all sorts of cries and execrations from the
combatants.
While cdl this proceeded, de Luc touched the
horses with the whip and noiselessly disappeared.
Arriving at Bagueret, he left the carriage at the
inn and proceeded on foot to Chateau de Roguin
where he was received by the count and his
daughter.
De Luc told his story briefly — that he was tin-
1 62 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
courier of the Marquis de Villeroy — who would
himself follow shortly — and was cordially wel-
comed and invited to make himself at home.
" It is no secret, I believe, count," he said
presently, " that you are going on a special mis-
sion for the king to Sardinia ? "
" I expect my messages by the marquis."
" Mademoiselle accompanies you?"
" No," said de Roguin, " but there is to be a
change for her also, doubtless even more agree-
able than a sight of Italy. She is about to be
married to a very worthy gentleman, Monsieur de
Cheauvelins — rich, amiable, and good of birth."
Here the door was suddenly opened, and a ser-
vant announced, " Colonel de Scromberg."
A tall, burly man, with a large head, a red
brutal face, stepped in smiling. It was evident
he had been drinking. " Necessity forces me to
trespass upon your hospitality, count," he said,
" my horse has fallen and cannot go a mile
farther."
Count de Roguin bowed, passing over the
apology, and introduced the newcomer to his
daughter and lastly to young de Luc.
So the colonel sat down among them with a
smile upon his coarse face that was remarkably
like a sneer, and something in his attitude that
was very like insolence.
" You go to Sardinia soon ? ' he questioned
presently, crossing his long legs.
THE SECKK T JUST A TCI IKS.
" Yes," said dc Roguin doubtfully.
" And you carry important secret dispatches ? '
" I don't know. It is not certain. I mean I
have no official notification."
" But they have arrived, you have them in
your possession."
" I assure you they have not."
"Come, why hide it? We are friends here."
" But I really have no such papers."
" A million devils ! Why such secrecy ? I
am no child to be put off in this way."
" I have not, monsieur. It is not your affair
either way," said the count with heightened
color, "but I have not."
" You lie ! "
Count de Roguin sprang to his feet with a
lurid glare in his countenance. Madamoiselle
Marguerite clun
you loathe your life, be zealous to preserve it, and
hasten not, I warn you, by one hour the great
day of God's final reckoning. Most of all be
mindful of the things of an eternal concernment,
that we who part from you now may not part
forever as from a soul given over to everlasting
darkness."
The prisoner gave no further sign. Then the
Bishop turned with a wild gesture to the right
and to the left and lifted both his hands. "Men
and women of Man," he said, in a voice that rose
174 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
to the shrillness of a cry, " the sentence of the
court of the barony of the island is, that this man
shall be cut off from his people. Henceforth let
him have no name among us, nor family, nor kin.
From now forever let no flesh touch his flesh, let
no tongue speak to him. Let no eye look on
him. If he should be an-hungered, let none give
him meat. When he shall be sick let none
minister to him. When his death shall come, let
no man bury him. Alone let him live, alone let
him die, and among the beasts of the field let
him hide his unburied bones."
A great hoarse groan arose from the people,
such as comes from the bosom of a sullen sea.
The pathos of the awful struggle which they had
looked upon was swallowed up in the horror of
its tragedy. What they had come to see was as
nothing to the awfulness of the thing they had
witnessed. Death was terrible, but this was
beyond death's terror. They looked up at the
mount, and the gaunt figure standing there above
the vast multitude of moving heads seemed to
be something beyond nature. The trembling
upraised hands, the eyes of fire, the white quiver-
ing lips, the fever in the face which consumed
the grosser senses, appeared to transcend the
natural man. And below was the prisoner, dazed,
stunned, a beast smitten mortally and staggering
to its fall.
The sergeant removed the fetters from the
cu /•(>/-/•• /-A- OM 'i '///•: PEOi v. E. i ; 5
prisoner's hands and feet, and turned him about
with his face toward the south. Not at first did
the man seem to realize that he was no longer a
prisoner, but an outcast, and free to go whither
lie would, save where other men might be. Then,
recovering some partial consciousness, he moved
a pace or two forward, and instantly the croud
opened for him and a long, wide way was made
through the dense mass, and he walked through
it, slow yet strong of step, with head bent and
eyes that looked into the eyes of no man. Thus
he passed away from the Tynwald toward the
foot of Slieau Whallin and the valley of Foxdale
that runs southward. And the people looked
after him, and the Bishop on the mount and the
clergy below followed him with their eyes. A
great wave of compassion swept over the crowd
as the solitary figure crossed the river and began
to ascend the mountain-path. The man was
accursed, and none might look upon him with
pity; but there were eyes that grew dim at that
sight.
And while the people watched the lonely man
who moved away from them across the breast of
the hill, a pale sheet of lightning, without noise of
thunder, flashed twice or thrice before their faces.
So still was the crowd, and so reverberant the air,
that they could hear the man's footsteps on the
stony hillside. When he reached the topmost
point of the path, and was about to descend to
1 76 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
the valley, he was seen to stop, and presently to
turn his face, gazing backward for a moment.
Against the dim sky his figure could be
seen .from head to foot. While he stood the
people held their breath. Then he was gone,
and the mountain had hidden him forever.
An Encounter with a Panther.
JAMES FENNIMORE COOPER.
ADAPTED.
THE day was becoming warm, and the girls
plunged more deeply into the forest, as they
found its invigorating coolness agreeably con-
trasted to the excessive heat they had ex-
perienced in the ascent. Elizabeth suddenly
started and said :
" Listen ! there are the cries of a child on this
mountain ! Is there a clearing near us ? Or has
some little one strayed from its parents ? '
" Such things frequently happen," returned
Louisa. " Let us follow the sound : it may be a
wanderer starving on the hill."
Urged by this consideration, the females
pursued the low, mournful sounds, that pro-
ceeded from the forest, with quick, impatient
steps. More than once the ardent Elizabeth was
on the point of announcing that she saw the
A.\ ENCOUNTER //'//// A PANTHER. \Tf
sufferer, wlien Louisa caught her by the arm, and
pointing behind them cried, -
" Look at the dog ! '
Brave had been their companion from the
time the voice of his young mistress lured him
from his kennel, to the present moment. His
advanced age had long before deprived him of
his activity ; and when his companions stopped
to view the scenery, or to add to their bouquets,
the mastiff would lay his huge frame on the
ground, and await their movements with eyes
closed, and a listlessness in his air that ill accorded
with the character of a protector. But when,
aroused by this cry from Louisa, Miss Temple
turned, she saw the dog with his eyes keenly set
on some distant object, his head bent near the
ground, and his hair actually rising on his body,
through fright or anger. It was most probably
the latter, for he was growling in a low key, and
occasionally showing his teeth in a manner that
would have terrified his mistress, had she not so
well known his good qualities.
" Brave," she said, " be quiet. Brave ! what
do you see, fellow?
At the sound of her voice, the rage of the
mastiff, instead of being allayed, was very sensi-
bly increased.
" What does he see ? " said Elizabeth. " There
must be some animal in sight." She turned her
head and beheld Louisa, standing with her face
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
whitened to the color of death and her finger
pointing upwards. The quick eye of Elizabeth
glanced in the direction indicated by her friend,
where she saw the fierce front and glaring eyes of
a female panther, fixed on them with horrid
malignity and threatening to leap.
" Let us fly," exclaimed Elizabeth, grasping
the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded like melt-
ing snow.
There was not a single feeling in the tempera-
ment of Elizabeth Temple that could prompt
her to desert a companion in such an extremity.
She fell on her knees by the side of the inani-
mate Louisa.
" Courage, Brave ! " she cried, her tones begin-
ning to tremble. " Courage, courage, good
Bi "
rave !
All this time Brave stood firm and undaunted,
his short tail erect, his body drawn back on its
haunches and his eyes following the movements
of the panther.
Suddenly she saw the form of the old panther
in the air, springing twenty feet from the branch
of the beech to the back of the mastiff. No
words can describe the fury of the conflict that
followed. It was a confused struggle on the dry
leaves, accompanied by loud and terrific cries.
So rapid and vigorous were the bounds of the
inhabitant of the forest, that its active frame
seemed constantly in the air, while the dog
AN KXCOL'XTER II777/ A PANTHER,
nobly faced his foe at each successive leap.
When the panther lighted on the shoulders of
the mastiff, which was its constant aim, old
Brave though torn with her talons, and stained
with his own blood that already flowed from a
dozen wounds, would shake off his foe like a
feather and rearing on his hind legs, rush to the
fray again, with jaws distended and dauntless
eye. But age and his pampered life greatly dis-
qualified the noble mastiff for such a struggle.
In everything but courage he was only the vestige
of what he had once been. A higher bound
than ever raised the wary and furious beast far
beyond the reach of the dog, who was making a
desperate but fruitless dash at her, from which
she alighted in a favorable position, on the back
of her aged foe. For a single moment only
could the panther remain there, the great
strength of the dog returning with a convulsive
effort. But Elizabeth saw, as Brave fastened his
teeth in the side of his enemy, that the collar of
brass round his neck which had been glittering
throughout the fray, was of the color of blood,
and directly that his frame was sinking to the
earth, where it soon lay prostrate and helpless.
Several mighty efforts of the wild-cat to ex-
tricate herself from the jaws of the dog followed,
but they were fruitless, until the mastiff turned
on his back, his lips collapsed, and his teeth
loosened, when the short convulsions and still-
180 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ness that succeeded, announced the death of
poor Brave.
Elizabeth now lay wholly at the mercy of the
beast. The eyes of the monster and the kneel-
ing maiden met for an instant, when the former
stopped to examine her fallen foe ; it turned,
however, with its eyes apparently emitting
flashes of fire, its tail lashing its sides furiously
and its claws projecting inches from its broad feet.
Miss Temple did not or could not move. Her
hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, but
her eyes were still drawn to her terrible enemy ;
her cheeks were blanched to the whiteness of
marble. The moment seemed now to have
arrived for the fatal termination, and the beauti-
ful figure of Elizabeth was bowing to the stroke,
when a rustling of leaves behind attracted her
attention.
" Hist ! hist ! " said a low voice, " stoop lower,
gal, your bonnet hides the creature's head."
It was rather the yielding of nature than a
compliance with this unexpected order, that
caused the head of our heroine to sink on her
bosom ; when she heard the report of the rifle,
the whizzing of the bullet, and the enraged cries
of the beast, who was rolling over on the earth,
biting its own flesh, and tearing the twigs and
branches within its reach. At the next instant
the form of the Leather-Stocking rushed by her
and called aloud, —
THE o 'KL'EL T\ ' O I- LEGREE. 1 »S I
"Come in, Hector, come in, old fool; 'tis a
hard-lived animal, and may jump ag'in."
Natty fearlessly maintained his position in
front of the females, notwithstanding the violent
bounds and threatening aspect of the wounded
panther, which gave several indications of return-
ing strength and ferocity, until his rifle was
again loaded, when he stepped up to the enraged
animal, and placing the muzzle close to its head,
every spark of life was extinguished by the dis-
charge.
The Cruelty of Legree.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
From " Uncle Tom's Cabin."
SLOWLY the weary, dispirited creatures wound
their way into the room, and with crouching
reluctance presented their baskets to be weighed.
Legree noted on a slate, on the side of which
was pasted a list of the names, the amount.
Tom's basket was weighed and approved, and
he looked with an anxious glance for the success
of the woman he had befriended.
Tottering with weakness, she came forward
and delivered her basket. It was of full weight,
as Legree well perceived, but, affecting anger,
he said, —
" What, you lazy beast ! Short again ! '
1 82 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
The woman gave a groan of utter despair, and
sat down on a board.
"And now," said Legree, "come here. You,
Tom, you see I telled ye I didn't buy ye jest for
common work ; I mean to promote ye, and
make a driver of ye ; and to-night ye may jest as
well begin to get yer hand in. Now, ye jest
take this gal and flog her ; ye've seen enough
on't to know how ! '
"I beg Mas'r's pardon," said Tom, "hopes
Mas'r won't set me at that. It's what I ain't
used to — never did — and I can't do, no way
possible."
" Yo'll larn a pretty smart chance of things ye
never did know, before, I've done with ye ! '
said Legree, taking up a cowhide and striking
Tom a heavy blow across the cheek, and follow-
ing up the infliction by a shower of blows.
"There," he said, as he stopped to rest;
" now will ye tell me ye can't doit?'
" Yes, Mas'r," said Tom, putting up his hand
to wipe the blood that trickled down his face.
" I'm willin' to work night and day and work while
there's life and breath in me, but this yer thing I
can't feel it right to do ; and, Mas'r, I never
shall do it — never ! '
Tom had a remarkably smooth, soft voice, and
a habitually respectful manner that had given
Legree an idea that he would be cowardly and
easily subdued. When he spoke these last
77/A (. -A' UEL TY 01' I. /• ( / A' I-'. /•/.
\vords, a thrill of ama/ement wrnt through
every one, and they involuntarily looked at each
other and drew in their breath, .is if to prepare
for the storm that was about to burst.
Legree looked stupefied and confounded, but
at last burst forth :
" What ! ye blasted black beast ! tell me ye
don't think it ri/: XSTEIN. \
The bishop was greatly incensed at the news
of the princess' abduction which his terrified
host had come to tell him. He sat up in bed
and fairly roared at the inn-keeper : " Arc there
no men, then, in the town who can fight ? '
" None, none, my lord, not against the count.
He is a terrible man. Please God he has not
killed the princess."
" Saddle my horse, and be quick about it."
And he leaped out of bed with sparkling eyes,
for the bishop was a young man, but little turned
of thirty. In ten minutes he was at the door of
the inn and was galloping towards Festenburg.
On the stroke of half past twelve, he came to
the castle moat and shouted to the watchman,
" Let down the bridge ! I am the Bishop of
Modenstein, and I charge you as you are a duti-
ful son of the church, to obey me. My pistol is
full at your head."
The frightened watchman lowered the bridge
and the bishop ran across with his sword drawn.
Walking into the hall, he found a great company
of Nikolas' men looking alarmed and uneasy.
He raised his hand that held the sword in the
attitude of benediction, saying " Peace be with
you." And he added, " Where is your master ? '
" The count is upstairs. You cannot see him
now. We are ordered to let none pass."
" Do you think I do not know what has been ?
Do you all want to swing from the turret of the
19° NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
castle when the king comes with a thousand
men from Stretslau ? The church is free to enter
everywhere, stand back ! " and he burst through
them at the point of the sword, and swiftly
mounted the stairs.
At this instant in the room in the gate tower,
Count Nikolas had told the princess she should
never leave that room alive save as his promised
wife.
"You do not dare to kill me," said she.
" Madame, I dare do nothing else. They may
write ' murderer ' on my tomb ; they shall not
throw ' cheat ' in my living face."
" I will cry your cheating in all Stretslau,"
said she.
" Then commend your soul to God. For
in a minute you shall die."
He began to come nearer. His sword drawn
in his hand, he paused and gazed into her eyes.
There was for an instant utter stillness in the
room and in that instant the Bishop of
Modenstein set his foot on the stair and came
running up. Osra heard the step, and a gleam
flashed into her eyes. The count heard it
also and his sword was arrested in its stroke.
He dropped it on the floor and sprang upon
her, pressed his hand upon her mouth and
carried her swiftly across the room to a door
in the wall. He pulled the door open and flung
her down roughly on the stone floor, and as he
THE SIN OF THE BISHOP OE MO DENS TEIN. I 9 1
rushed out he heard a man throw himself
violently against the door of the room.
Twice the man hurled himself against the
door. At last it strained and gave way
and the Bishop of Modenstein burst into the
room. But he saw no trace of the princess,
only Count Nikolas standing sword in hand
in front of the door in the wall with a sneering
smile.
" My lord," said the bishop, " where is the
princess ? "
" What do you want here, and who are you ? '
" My lord, do you not know the Bishop of
Modenstein? "
" Bishop ! This is no place for bishops. Go
back to your prayers."
" It wants sometime yet before matins, my
lord. Where is the princess ?'
" I do not know where she is," said Count
Nikolas of Festenbur^.
o
" My lord, you lie," said the Bishop of
Modenstein.
At this instant the Princess Osra, hearing the
bishop's voice, cried out loudly for help.
The bishop darted across the room and was
at the door of the little chamber before the
count could stop him. He pulled the door
open and Princess Osra sprang out to him.
" Save me ! Save me ! "
I92 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" You are safe, madame, have no fear," said
the bishop.
But the rage of the count and the fear of
exposure lashed him to fury and he sprang
toward the bishop crying: " You first, and then
her : I'll be rid of the pair of you ! ' The bishop
faced him, guarding himself. He neither flinched
nor gave back, but turned every thrust with a
wrist of iron and pressed on and on. And
while the Princess Osra gazed with wide eyes
and close-held breath, and Count Nikolas mut-
tered oaths and grew more furious, the bishop
seemed as gay as when he first started. And
still he drove Count Nikolas back and back.
Now behind the count was a window — low
and wide and open now, and beneath was a
fall of fifty feet into the moat below.
" Will you yield yourself, my lord ? ' cried
the bishop lowering his point.
In that moment the count taking advantage
of the bishop's unguarded front — thrust and
wounded him in the left side, and the bishop
staggered back. Then the count drawing back
his sword seized it by the blade held way up
and flung it like a javelin at the Princess. By
an ace it missed her head.
When the bishop saw this, hesitation and
mercy passed out of his heart. He sprang and
drove his sword into the count's body.
Then came from the count's lips a loud cry.
////•: SIN 01- mi-: lusnor OF MODENSTEIN.
as, staggering back, lie fell, wounded to death,
through the open window. The bishop looked
out after him and Princess Osra heard a great
splash in the water of the moat below.
Then came up through the window the clatter
of a hundred feet and the confused sound of
men talking. And they cried, " The bishop
has killed him ! The bishop has killed him ! '
Cried the bishop from the window, " Yes, I
have killed him. So perish all such villains!'
" Is he dead ? ' asked the princess.
"He is dead. God have mercy on him. I
killed him : if it were a. sin, pray God forgive me."
Then suddenly she threw herself on her knees
and seizing hold of his hand, she kissed first the
o
Episcopal ring that he wore and then his hand.
Hut he raised her hastily and knelt before her,
kissing her hands many times. Then he raised
his eyes — met her glance and smiled. For an
instant they were thus, then the bishop rose to
his feet, standing before her with bent head and
eyes that sought the ground.
" It is by God's infinite goodness and divine
permission that I hold my sacred office," said
he. I would that I were more worthy of it, but
to-day I have taken pleasure in killing a man."
" And in saving a lady, sir, who will always
count you among her dearest friends and de-
fenders. Is God angry with such a deed as that ? '
"May He forgive us all our sins," said the
194 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
bishop gravely ; but what other sins lie had
in mind he did not say, nor did the princess
ask him.
A Study in Dialect.
MARIETTA HOLLEY.
Adapted from " Samantha at the Centennial," published
by American Publishing Company, Hartford, Conn. Used
by permission of the author.
AFTER dinner the Widder Doodle went up-
stairs and laid down for a nap, as she makes the
practice of doin' every day ; and glad enough
was I to see her go. And after she had laid
down and our ears had got rested off, and I got
the work all done up, and Tirzah Ann and me
had sot down to our sewin' — she was doin' some
fine sewin' and I laid to and helped her — as we
sot there all alone by ourselves she began on me,
and her face lengthened down a considerable
number of inches longer than I had ever seen it
as she went on.
She was afraid Whitfield didn't think so much
of her as he used to ; he didn't act a mite as he
used to when he was a courtin' of her. Didn't kiss
her so much in a week now, as he used to one
Sunday night. Didn't set and look at her for
hours and hours at a time, as he did then. Didn't
seem to be half as 'fraid of her wings spreadin' out,
A STUDY IN DIALECT.
ami takin' her up to heaven. Didn't seem to be
a bit afraid of her goin' up bodily. Didn't call
her " seraph ' any more, or " blessed old honey-
cake," or " heavenly sweetness," or " angel-pie."
About all he called her now besides Tirzah Ann
was " my clear."
I see in a minute the cause of the extra
deprested look onto her face that day ; I see in
a minute " where the shoe pinched," as the poet
says. And I see here was a chance for me to do
good ; and I spoke up real earnest-like, but con-
siderably calm, and says I :
" Tirzah Ann, that is a first-rate word, and your
husband, Whitfield Minkley, hits the nails on
the head every time he says it. ' Dear ! ' that is
jest what you are to him, and when he puts the
' m}' ' onto it that tells the hull story ; you are
dear, and you are hisen, that is the hull on't."
Says I, in a real solemn and almost camp-meetin'
tone, "Tirzah Ann you are a sailin' by that
rock now that the happiness of a great many
hearts founder on, that a great many lifeboats are
wrecked on." Says I, " Lots of happy young
hearts have sailed smilin' out of the harbor of
single blessedness, hit ag'inst that rock and gone
down ; don't you be one of 'em," says I ; " don't
make a shipwreck of the happiness of T. A.
Minkley, late Allen ; histe up the sail of common-
sense and go round the rock with flyin' colors,
and," says I, in agitated tones, " I'll help you,
196 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
I'll put my shoulder blades to the wheel." And
I continued in almost tremblin' tones — as I
trimmed off the edge of the linen cambric, and
went to overcastin' of it :
" I never could bear to see anybody want to
set down and stand up at the same time," says I,
" it always looked so unreasonable to me. And,"
says I, " Tirzah Ann, you are in the same place ;
you want to be courted, and you want to be
married at the same time ; you want a husband
and you want a bo out of the same man, simulta-
neous, as it were."
Says I : "Truly we can't have everything we
want at one time. There is a time for apple trees
to blow out, rosy color — sweet with honey bees
a-hummin' round 'em ; and there is a time for the
ripe fruit, and apple sass. We can't have good
sleighin' in hot weather, or can't be drawed out
to a peach tree to eat ripe peaches on a hand
sled. Slidin' down hill is fun, but you can't slide
down hill over sweet clover blows, for clover and
snow don't blow out at the same time. And you
can't have peace, and rest, and quiet of mind, at
the same time with delerious enjoyment, and
highlarious mirth.
" There is as many kinds of happiness as ' there
is stars in the heavens,' and no two stars are
alike ; they all differ from each other, in their
particular kind of glory.
" Now courtin' is considerable fun, suthin' on
A S TUD V IX D1A I. /. (V. 1 97
the plan of catchin' a bird, kind o' rcsky and
uiuvrt'in but cxcitin' likr, and considerable
liappyfyin*. To set clown after a good supper,
contented and quiet, by a bright fireside with
your knittin' work, and your affectionate pardner
fast asleep and snorin' in the arm chair opposite,
is another kind of happiness, nothin' delerious
nor highlarious about it, but considerable com-
fortin' and consolin' after all. Now you have got
a good affectionate husband, Tirzah Ann, a man
that will look out for your comfort, do well by you,
and be a good provider ; and you mustn't expect
him to be the lover ; I mean, you mustn't expect
him to go through with all the performances he
used to when he was tryin' to get you ; why it is
as unreasonable as anything in the world can be
unreasonable.
" Now," says I, " there's your pa and me,
Tirzah Ann ; we have lived together in the
o
neighborhood of twenty years, and we are at-
tached to each other with a firm and cast-iron
affection, our love for each other towers up like a
pillow. But if that man should go to talkin' to
me as he used to when he came a-courtin' me I'd
shet him up in the smoke house, for I should be
afraid of him, I'll be hanged if I shouldn't ; I
should think he was a luny.
" I s'pose he thought it was necessary to go
through with all them mysterious, curious per-
formances— talkin' strange, praisin' me to the
198 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
skies, runnin' other wimmen down to the lowest
notch, jealous of likely men, actin' wild, spooney ;
eyein' me all the time as close as if he was a cat,
and I was a rat hole ; writin' the curiousest
letters to me, threatenin' to kill himself if I
wouldn't have him, and jumpin' up as if he
would jump out of his skin if I went to wait on
myself any, pick up a ball of yarn, or open a
door or anything. I s'pose he thought he had
got to go through all this, or else it wouldn't be
courtin'. But good land ! he couldn't keep it
up; I hadn't no idee he could, he couldn't get
no rest nor I nuther. It wore on me, he used to
talk so dretful curious to me, so 'fraid I'd get
killed or wait on myself a little or sunthin' ; and
eat! why I s'pose he eat next to nothin', till I
promised to have him. Why ! when we got en-
gaged he wasn't much mor'n skin and bones.
But good land ! he eats enough now to make
o o
it up ; we hadn't been married a month before
he'd eat anything that was put before him, and
instead of settin' down and talkin' strange at me,
or jumpin' up, as if he was shot, to open the door
— so 'fraid that I would strain myself openin' a
door — why, he would set and whittle and let me
wait on myself jest as natural — let me sprain my
back a-reachin' for things at the table, or bring
in wood, or anything. Or he would drop to sleep
in his chair, and sleep most of the hull evenin',
he felt so contented and happy in his mind."
A S TUD Y IN DIA L E C T. 1 99
1 see I was a-impressin' Tirxah Ann tlic way
I wanted to — and it made me feel so neat, that
I went to allegorin', as I made a practice of doin'
real often when I get eloquent ; sunthin' in the
Bunyan style, only not so long. It is a dretful
impressive way of talkin'.
Says I, " S'posen a man was a-racin' to catch
a boat, that was liable to start off without him.
How he would swing his arms and canter, and
how the sweat would pour offen his eyebrows, so
dretful afraid he wouldn't get there in time to
embark. But after he had catched it and sot
down as easy as he could be, sailin' along com-
fortable and happy towards the place he wants
to go to; how simple it would be in him, if he
should keep up his performances. Do you
s'pose he is any more indifferent about the
journey he has undertook because he hain't
a-swingin' his arms and canterin'? No! the time
for that was when he was a catchin' the boat,
'fraid he wouldn't git it in time. That was the
time for racin', that was the time for lookin'
wild, that was the time for sweat. And when he
had catched it that was the time for quiet and
happiness.
" When \Vhitfield Minkley was a-tryin' to git
you, anxious, 'fraid he shouldn't, jealous of
Shakespeare Bobbet, and etcetery, — that was the
time for exertion, and that was the time for
strange talk, spooney, wild, spiritual runnin* and
2OO NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
swingin' of the arms, sentimental canterin' and
sweat. Now he has got you, he is jest as com-
fortable and happy as the man on the boat, and
what under the sun is the use of his swinging
his arms and hollerin'.
" There you two are, in your boat, a-sailin'
down the river of life, and don't you go to up-
settin' it and your happiness, by insistin' on
makin' him go through with all the performance
he did when he was tryin' to catch you. It is
unreasonable."
I never see any one's mean, change much more
in the same length of time than Tirzah Ann's
mean did, while I was a-allegorin'. Her face
seemed to look a number of inches shorter than
it did when I begun.
Pretty soon Whitfield came, and he and
Tirzah Ann stayed and eat supper, and we
should have got along first rate, only there was a
nutcake — a long slim one with two legs — that
put the Widder in mind of Doodle ; it happened
to be on her plate, and she cried one hour and a
half by the clock.
The English Buccaneer.
ADAPTED.
A LARGE Spanish ship-of-war was en route
from Spain to a port in the West Indies. Among
THE ENGLISH BUCCAM-.I-.R. 2OI
the passengers was Julia Do Lapc/, niece of the
governor of the province to which they were
sailing. This vessel was attacked and captured
by pirates commanded by a young man who
had become notorious as the English Buc-
caneer.
After the capture, just as some of the ruffians
were breaking into the cabin of this young lady,
the commander of the pirates, whose name was
Adolph Montreul, appeared. She, observing
that he was an officer of high rank, threw herself
upon his mercy and begged his protection.
Hiding his real identity from her, he promised
the protection she asked, if she would accompany
him on board a French vessel which was along-
side, and of which he claimed to be the
commander. This she gladly consented to do.
lie then set sail for her destination and restored
her to her uncle.
During the voyage they fell violently in love.
Upon their arrival, Julia artlessly related the
tale of her rescue to her uncle ; and that
functionary in gratitude to her gallant preserver
prepared a magnificent banquet in his honor.
And a banquet worthy of the princely giver it
was. Lights blazed along the lofty hall, dec-
orated with colors of France and Spain inter-
mingled, noble gentlemen and high dignitaries of
state had been summoned to do honor to the
guest. The table groaned with costly plate.
202 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Venice glasses of rare price were ranged along the
board. Servants in gorgeous liveries thronged
the hall.
At the right of the governor sat Montreul,
surrounded with officers of the state, but among
them all none bore themselves with such grace
and dignity. At length the subject turned on
the all-engrossing subject of the day, the audacity
and success of the great rover ; and Montreul was
courteously asked respecting him, for he was
supposed to have rescued Julia from the pirates.
The young man was about to answer as best he
might in this perplexing situation, when a ser-
vant approached the governor and whispered in
his ear. He spoke hastily in reply.
" Tell him to call to-morrow. I must not be
disturbed now."
" Pray, do not put off the suitor on my
account," said Montreul. " It may be a matter
of great importance to the applicant, and to-
morrow may be too late."
Even while he was speaking a second lacquey
approached, bearing a note addressed to the
governor, on a silver salver. The governor read
the note, and started with surprise. He turned
instantly to Montreul and said, " I will then
excuse myself for a few minutes. This is of
great importance to the state."
Fully half an hour elapsed before the governor
came back. He entered at length, with a dis-
TV/A ENGLISH IWCCANEKR. 203
turbcd brow. lie walked to his chair, and with.
out sitting down, spoke.
" Gentlemen, my excuse for this absence is to
be found in the urgent nature of the business
which called me from you. I scarcely know how
to act in the emergency in which I find myself,
but the path of duty is before me, and in that I
must tread, let the consequences be what they
may." He paused and looked again around the
board. Every eye remained fixed on him.
" The business of which I speak relates to the
pirate who has so long infested our seas. He
sits among you. He is at my side. This is
he."
As he spoke, he turned to Montreul and laid
his hand on the young man's shoulder. Montreul
sprang to his feet. His hand sought his sword
which leaped half-way out of the scabbard.
But instantly he controlled himself and stood
with a half-contemptuous smile, looking in the
face of the governor, who returned his gaze with-
out flinching.
" Yes, I repeat it ; we have the tiger at length
in our toils. Sir Buccaneer, your own lieutenant
has betrayed you ! ' The words of the governor
announcing that Montreul was the dreaded rover
fell like a thunderbolt on the assembly. Every
man sprang to his feet. Stood gazing on him,
spellbound, struck dumb with astonishment.
Montreul stood like a lion caught in the toils,
204 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
his sword half-drawn, one foot advanced, his form
erect, his chest thrown back, his nostrils dilated,
and his dark eyes gleaming with haughty defi-
ance and disdain. At length he spoke, " I am
the English Buccaneer, I have come alone into
your midst as a guest, and alone I shall depart.
Make way there ! '
He moved as he spoke, toward the entrance.
Not an arm was upraised to oppose his progress ;
the crowd of civil functionaries who stood in his
passage hastily fell back. The governor was
himself the first to break the spell. Advancing
with quick steps, he said, " Ho ! there, guards-
close the door. Gentlemen of Castile, shall this
man walk unopposed from our midst ? '
But ere they could advance to lay hands on
him, Montreal, stepping back against the wall,
said, " Stand back, if you are gentlemen. Singly
I defy you all, and none but cowards would
set on a man ten to one. If there is honor
in you, stand back." The group of officers
halted and looked from each other to the gov-
ernor doubtingly. The governor dropped the
point of his sword. The taunt had stung home.
" I ask no favor at your hands," said Montreal,
" but I demand the right of a guest. To this
banquet I came at your invitation, Sir Governor,
and from the laws of hospitality and the honor
of gentlemen, I claim safe egress, and time to
repair on board my ship. Then do your worst !
THE ENGLISH BUCCANEER. 20$
Make way ! or God help him who opposes my
passage, if any here is base enough to do it."
Me stepped forward as he spoke, holding his
rapier guardedly before him. Anxious as the
governor was to secure this valuable prize, he
felt, now that the momentary excitement of the
discovery had passed, that he could not make
Montreal a prisoner there without a breach of
honor ; and besides he was sanguine that even if
the rover reached his ship, escape would be im-
possible. He drew back, therefore, bowing with
haughty courtesy which his officers imitated.
Montreul advanced through their midst, until he
reached the door, when he turned and, waving
his plumed cap with as haughty a courtesy as
their own, glanced proudly around the group
and then vanished from the apartment.
On leaving the governor's palace, he went
directly to the wharf, stepped into a fisherman's
canoe and ordered the owner with all speed to
set him on board the French man-of-war. Words
cannot describe the indignation of the crew when
he related to them the treachery of the lieutenant.
In a short time preparations for defence were
made, the anchor weighed, the ship turned sea-
ward, and with every stretch of canvas set, the
vessel began to move slowly through the water.
The shores, bristling at every salient point with
fortifications, stretched in a semi-circle around
the ship. As she started through the water,
206 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Montreul stood for the first time silent. He saw
his situation in its true light, — he was leaving the
one he loved.
In what light would she now regard him? He
saw all his hopes blasted. She would hear his
name linked with terms of reproach — his motives
misconstrued — his character blackened — but his
reveries were interrupted — for at that instant the
whole girdle of forts blazed with fire.
With bold defiance the batteries of the frigate
now began to reply to those from the shore, and
soon the roar of cannon shook the town and
reverberated among the hills.
It was a noble sight, that of the gallant little
ship beating out of the harbor, her sides a con-
tinuous sheet of flame, while from every em-
brasure around gushed in reply a fiery stream.
Fortune, which at first seemed to favor the
buccaneers, speedily turned against them, for the
wind hauled directly ahead. She instantly fell
off, and it became necessary to tack. In this
perilous moment a ball struck her foremast.
All the efforts of Montreul could not extricate
his ship from her position in time. The fire of
the enemy became momently more deadly, and,
to crown the despair of the buccaneers, a shot
carried away the rudder. In a few minutes more
the frigate was a complete wreck.
Early on the ensuing morning the hall in the
THE ENGLISH BUCCANEER. 2O/
principal fort was crowded with a dense assem-
blage. A buzz was heard at the door, and the
governor, entering, took his seat.
Immediately a body of soldiers appeared, clear-
ing the way for the prisoner, who followed
close behind. Heavily ironed, and pale as if from
late exhaustion, the captive yet advanced with a
firm step to the place assigned him in front of the
governor.
" Sir Prisoner," said the governor, " justice de-
mands that the fate to which you condemn those
who unhappily fall into your hands should be
meted out to you in return. You are a soldier
and a brave one, whatever else you may be, and
will hear your doom without unmanly complain-
ings. Ere the hand on yonder clock has traversed
another circle, you die."
A shudder ran through the assembly at these
words. Only the prisoner remained unmoved.
He bowed his head in acknowledgment, but
from weakness or some other cause, seemed in-
disposed to say anything.
" Take him away," said the governor, pointing
to Montreal.
The prisoner rose feebly to his feet as the
officers assisted him. He spoke not, but moved
heavily along, his head drooped on his breast.
Only when he reached the door and heard the
solemn toll of the cathedral bell, did he appear
to arouse. Then he erected his form, his eye
2O8 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
brightened, and he moved once more with a
soldierly step.
Suddenly a strange monk rushed up to the
entrance.
" Stay," he exclaimed, " stay until I speak to
the governor, or the blood of this man be on
your heads. I command you," he said as the
procession still moved on, " to stay."
He spoke so authoritatively that the officers
paused. The intruder boldly advanced to the
governor.
'' Countermand the execution," he said, and
having reached the governor he whispered in the
old noble's ear. " He is your son who was
stolen from you twenty-five years ago, respite
him or you will destroy your own blood."
No one but he for whose ears they were in-
tended, heard those words, but the spectators
noticed, and long after commented on the ghastly
change that came over the governor's face. For
an instant he seemed about to swoon, but, mas-
tering his emotions, he ordered, in a faint voice,
that the prisoner be remanded, and then, accept-
ing the monk's arm, staggered with him into a
private room.
At length the governor re-entered the hall.
" Gentlemen," said the old noble, looking around
the company with a countenance haggard and
pale from recent excitement, " what the causes
are that induce me to free this prisoner must re-
THE DEATH O/> KILL SYKES. 2OQ
main forever a secret between me, my sovereign,
ami my God. To his majesty alone, from whom
I hold this appointment, I shall justify myself.
With this day's sun, i resign my appointment
and set sail for Spain, carrying with me, on
honorable parole, the prisoner."
The descendants of Julia and Montreul still
live in England and are now high in rank and
honored by the state. Nor are they the only
ones whose ancestors in those romantic times
waged war on Spain beyond the line.
The Death of Bill Sykes.
CHARLES DICKENS.
Adapted from " Oliver Twist."
Near to that part of the river Thames on which the
church of Rotherithe stands, exists the filthiest, the strang-
est, and most extraordinary of the many localities that are
hidden in London. In this neighborhood stands Jacobs'
Island, surrounded by a muddy ditch six or eight feet deep
and fifteen or twenty wide when the tide is in.
In an upper room of an old house that backs tip against
F«i!!y Ditch were assembled three men regarding each other
with looks expressive of perplexity and expectation. One
of these men was Toby Crackit, the owner of the crib-
another Mr. Chilling and the third a robber of fifty years,
known as Kags. The discovery of the police that their pal
Bill Sykes had murdered his wife and then escaped, the
taking of Fag-in as accessory to the crime, and the breaking
up of other cribs, — had caused these men to fear that the
same fate might overtake them.
2IO NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
THERE had been a gloomy silence in the room,
after which Toby Crackit, seeming to abandon
as hopeless any further effort to maintain his
usual devil-may-care swagger, turned to Chitling
and said :
" When was Fagin took then ? '
"Just at dinner-time — two o'clock this after-
noon. Charlie and I made our lucky up the
wash'us chimney, and Bolter got into the empty
water-butt, head downwards ; but his legs were
so precious long that they stuck out at the top,
and so they took him too."
" Wot's come of Charley Bates ?' demanded
Kags.
" He hung about, not to come over here afore
dark, but he'll be here soon," replied Chitling.
" There's nowhere else to go now, for the people
at the cripples are all in custody, and the bar of
the ken — I went up there and see it with my own
eyes — is filled with traps."
" This is a smash," observed Toby, biting his
lips. " There's more than one will go with this."
" The sessions are on," said Kags. " If they
get the inquest over, and Bolter turns King's
evidence — as of course he will, from what he's
said already — they can prove Fagin an accessory
before the fact, and get the trial on, on Friday,
and he'll swing in six days from this."
It being now dark, the shutter was closed, and
a candle lighted and placed upon the table.
THE />/•:.-! TH Ol- HILL SYh'ES. 211
The terrible events of the last two days had
made a deep impression on all three, increased
by the danger and uncertainty of their own posi-
tion. They drew their chairs closer together,
starting at every sound. They spoke little, and
that in whispers, and were as silent and awe-
stricken as if the remains of the murdered woman
lay in the next room.
They had sat thus, some time, when suddenly
was heard a hurried knocking at the door
below.
" Charley Bates," said Kags, looking angrily
round, to check the fear he felt himself.
The knocking came again. No, it wasn't he.
He never knocked like that.
Crackit went to the window, and, shaking all
over, drew in his head. There was no need to
tell them who it was; his pale face was enough.
" We must let him in," said Toby, taking up
the candle.
" Isn't there any help for it? ' asked the other
man in a hoarse voice.
" None. He must come in."
Crackit went down to the door and returned,
followed by a man with the lower part of his
face buried in a handkerchief, and another tied
over his head under his hat. He drew them
slowly off. Blanched face, sunken eyes, hollow
cheeks, beard of three days' growth, wasted flesh,
- - --- CM S FOR PRIZE SP£.~. Kit
short :hick breath; it was the verv ghost of
o
Sykes.
He laid his hand upon a chair which stood in
: : : k cldle of the room, but, shuddering as he was
about to drop into it, and seeming to glance
over his shoulder, dragged i: back close to the
.ill — as dose AS it would ^o — ground i: asrair.s:
o o o
it — and sat down.
Not a word was said. He looked from one
to another in silence. If an eye were furtively
raised and met his, it was instantly averted.
When his hollow voice broke silence, they all
three started. Tkev seemed never to have heard
•
its tone before.
" Cur-: y. u all. Have you nothing to say to
me ~: "
The:. is an uneasy movement among them,
but nobody spoke.
11 Y?u that keep this hous said Sykes. turn-
ing his face to Crack::. " do you mean to sell n:-. .
or to let me lie here till this hunt is over "r '
" Y:u may stop here, if you think it safe."
Sykes carried his eves slowly up the wall
- *•
behind him — rather trying to turn his head than
actually doing it — and said, k' Is — it — the body —
is it buri. .: '
They shook their heads.
"Why isn't it! Wot do they keep such
ugly things above ground for? — s that
knocking :
• r- -
THE DEATH OF BILL I .-:~.S.
Crackit intimated, by a motion of his hand.
he left the room, that there was nothing to fear ;
and dir came back : .arley Ba:
behind him. Sykes sat opposite the door, so
that the moment the boy entered the room, he
encountered his figure.
•• Toby." said the boy. falling back, a res
turned his eyes toward him, " why didn't you
tell me this do'.vn stair- -
There had been something so tremendous in
-hrinking off of the three, that the wretched
man was willing to propitiate even this lad.
Accordingly he nodded, and made as though he
would shake hands with him.
•• Let me go into some other room," said the
be creating still farther.
" Chark said S : ?Pmg forward.
" D ty : — don't you know rr.
"Don't come near me." answered the b
still retreating, and looking with horror in his
eyes upon the murderer- : "... "You mon-
• • •
ster .
The man stopped half-way, and they looked at
each other, but Syke— ~3.nk gradually to the
ground.
•• Witness you thre cried the boy. shaking
his clenched ind becoming more and me
:-d as he spoke. "\Yitr..-- you three — I
not afraid of him — if they come here after him,
I'll give him up : I will. He may kill me for i:
214 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
he likes, or if he dares, but if I am here, I'll give
him up. I'd give him up if he was to be boiled
alive." A great noise outside stopped him.
Crackit pointed to the window. There were
lights gleaming below, voices in loud and earnest
conversation, and the tramp of hurried foot-
steps— endless they seemed in number — crossing
the nearest wooden bridge. The gleam of lights
increased: the footsteps came more quickly and
noisily on. Then came a loud knocking at the
door, and then a hoarse murmur from such a
multitude of angry voices as would have made
the boldest quail.
"Help!" shrieked the boy. "He's here!
Break down the door !
" In the king's name," cried the voices with-
out.
" Break down the door ! I tell you they'll
never open it. Run straight to the room where
the light is. Break down the door! '
Strokes, thick and heavy, rattled upon the
door and lower window shutters and a loud
huzzah burst from the crowd.
" Open the door of some place where I can
lock this screeching fool," cried Sykes fiercely ;
running to and fro, and dragging the boy as
easily as if he were an empty sack. " That door.
Quick! " He flung him in, bolted it, and turned
the key. " Is the down stairs door fast ? '
" Double-locked and chained," replied Crackit.
THE DEATH OF jifLL .STAYiS. 215
"The panels — are they strong ?'
11 Lined with sheet-iron."
" And the windows too ? '
" Yes, and the windows."
"Curse you!' cried the desperate ruffian,
throwing up the sash and menacing the crowd.
.Y S//fiA'll\>ol/X VICTORY, 241
" I would not hurrah for the king over ami
above loudly, John, the neighbors distrust thee
already. We have a son in the rebel camp
remember, and a good son, too."
Farmer Sherwood did not answer, but as his
wife looked up at him she saw his face drawn as
with pain. Stepping up to her husband, she
laid her head soothingly upon his breast. He
threw his arms around her and drew her close to
him. It was only for a moment. Loosening her
with a kiss, he went back to his work in the
garden and she to her moulding.
o o
Yes, the troops, Tryon's troops, fresh from the
burning and pillage of Norwalk, were coming ;
with gleam of musket and jingling of spurs, and
ever and anon with the sound of fife and drum,
they marched up the road. These were the men
who would be fighting her boy, her only son, in
a few hours perhaps, and she must give them
food and drink.
It was only an instant before the captain of
the troops rode up. He sprang lightly from his
horse and raised his hat to the comely woman
who stood in the doorway.
" I ask food in the king's name," he said.
" Enter, captain, and help yourself. You are
used to doing so, I doubt not ; the bread is
just out of the oven, and the pies will soon be
done."
Going forward to the table he picked up three
242 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
or four of the loaves saying as he did so, " I
seize these, madam, in the king's name and for
his soldiers. I will send in for the rest."
The soldiers outside scattered themselves over
the broad greensward in front of the house, and
did ample justice to the bread and meat brought
out to them, and in an hour or so, marched off
up the road.
Then the farmer came back through the
keeping-room into the long pleasant kitchen,
where his wife was stirring up corn-cakes for tea.
" God grant this visit to-day set my neighbors
not more against me."
" Amen," said his wife. " But we will not
think of that. Unless Samuel Forrest, sets them
on to evil I doubt if one of them will do aught
to hurt you."
" Aye, Samuel Forrest, he hath been our
enemy ever since he took our daughter from
us."
There was no answer. This was the one
subject on which Mistress Sherwood dared not
trust herself to speak, knowing well the torrent
of bitterness that she must give utterance to if
she once opened her lips.
John had finished his supper and gone out to
the milking, and his wife had tidied the room,
put away the last of the dishes and seated her-
self outside of the great south door-stone to pick
the greens over for the morrow's dinner, when
SHEK //'00/AV I '/( ' I\ >A' ) '. 243
the mocking voice of Samuel Forrest accosted
o
her.
"Good evening, my fair mother-in-la\v, picking
Greens, eh ? Now how much pleasanter this is
o 1
for a lady of your housewifely habits than going
to a show, a hanging for instance."
" What do you mean ? '
44 Only this, my good mother-in-law, the neigh-
bors seem not to approve of my revered father-
in-law's interest in the king's party and I should
not much wonder if it came to a matter of a
hanging ere long."
" Mayhap, but if it comes to a hanging, it will
be a great pity if we can't make it a family
party."
44 Ye may feel my power sooner than ye think
for, woman. Are you counting on Harry's
coming? Harry will never return from the war.
I have seen to that. You will learn to curb
your tongue when I come to live here, I fancy ;
good evening, my fair mother-in-law. I will see
you again ere long."
His foot-steps died away on the graveled
walk. She heard the click of the little front
gate before she stirred or spoke, then she breathed
rather than spoke, " My God ! My God !
Whither shall I turn for help? Whither in-
deed?' Her hands dropped into her lap. She
stared unseeing into the mild, blue, spring sky
that hung so softly above her. It was no idle
244 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
threat, she knew. More than one Tory in the
neighborhood had been hanged by infuriated
neighbors, and with a man like Samuel Forrest,
able and unprincipled enough to stir sleeping pas-
sions, to hint and sugg.est the act, what had they
not to fear ?
She groaned aloud in her helpless misery.
Suddenly, there came a light touch upon her
arm. She turned to see old Caesar, Samuel
Forrest's decrepit slave. " Missy, you want your
daughter, Missy Forrest?'
" Yes ! yes ! '
" To-morrow night at seben o'clock, come to
the swamp behind the church an' I gib her to
you. I can't stand dis no mo' ! '
It was seven o'clock the next evening when
Mistress Sherwood, wrapped in her great cape,
stood by the bars at the entrance of the swamp
behind the church. She had not waited more
than three minutes when she saw two figures
coming toward her, evidently Caesar and her
daughter. In another moment they stood at her
side. " Fo' de Lawd's sake, Missy, hurry now if
yo' nebber hurried befo' in your life. No, no, I
don't want no money. Get home quick, an' the
Lawd hab mussy on ye ! '
He was gone as he spoke, but Mistress Sher-
wood deliberately put back the hood that
shrouded her daughter's face and gazecj upon it,
. 1//.V / 'A' ESS SHE RlVOOn'S 1 7C TO A' }'. 2 _ j 5
Then with a groan to God, she seized Joan's
hand and hurried across the fields.
What meant those lights yonder in the valley
near her home? What was that sullen hum as
of voices? Was it the tramp of feet? She ran.
She tlew. She climbed the fences, she tore
through the briers in the sheep pasture-woods,
and panting and breathless she reached with her
daughter the back door of the old homestead.
Scarce pausing to breathe, she burst into the
kitchen. Angry, excited faces met her eye.
Back by the fireplace near the open settee from
which he had risen, stood John Sherwood with
his musket in his hand.
" There is no one of ye I would fain hurt," he
was saying as his wife entered, '; but I will sell
my life as dearly as possible. Never shall it be
said that a Sherwood was dragged out to death
with a halter round his neck."
"Down with the Tory!" ''Hang him!"
' Shoot him down where he stands and hang him
afterward ! In another moment there would
have been a rush upon him, but Abigail sprang
forward. " Neighbors ! neighbors ! ye who have
been our friends and neighbors for more than
*j
twenty years, listen to me. Ye were my school-
mates and my husband's schoolmates years ago.
Is there any of you that John Sherwood, boy or
man, ever wronged by so much as a farthing's
worth ? "
246 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" No ! He's an honest man, we'll say that
much for him."
''Has he not been a good neighbor to ye?
Robert Saunders, who loaned you the money for
the debt you owed Samuel Forrest yonder when
he threatened to take the last stick of wood and
the last pound of meal in your house if you did
not pay him ? Israel Hyatt, who found the corn
and the bacon for you that long winter when you
knew not where to turn ? and who paid the doc-
tor's bill for you when Susan died? And I — is
there one of you to whom I have not come with
cheer and comfort when you needed me at any
hour of the day or night ? I have pounded drugs
and distilled waters and watched with the dying
and helped lay out the dead. Oh, I think
shame, shame, to myself that I should have to
tell you this. And now, now at a word from
that man, that black-hearted fiend yonder, ye
come to put my husband, your good neighbor, to
a shameful death. And why? Do you know?
Shall I tell you ? Samuel Forrest thinks to take
my husband's farm and his homestead that he
has coveted, for his own. Aye, he told me, me
his mother, that my son Harry, my only son, who
is fighting on your side, shall never come home
to me. He had taken care of that he said."
" Tis false! " cried Samuel Forrest.
" 'Tis true, true as he stands there, he who has
robbed and cheated every one of you for years."
J/AV/'AV-^.V SHERWOOD'S I'ICTOKY. 247
Under her burning words there had been a
gradual, half-unconscious withdrawal on the part
of the crowd from Samuel Forrest, and now one
and another looked at him where he stood at one
side, and muttered ominously.
" Ye mind my daughter, neighbors, my pretty
Joan ? I gave her to that man three years ago,
the fairest bride that ever walked the streets of
Pemigewasset.
" It was but yester-eve he told me, ' You
haven't seen Joan for a year; she hath changed
somewhat.' Changed ! My God ! men, if ye be
men and not fiends like him, tell me what is
this ? ' She had held her daughter's hand all the
while and now she drew her forward to the
door.
With a sense of something coming, the men
had crowded up close on the great stone step and
stood peering into the kitchen. One swung his
lantern above his head and lighted up the scene,
and they saw, as Joan's cloak fell off, a thin, wan
form wasted with pain and sickness. Her wild
black curls clustering over her forehead intensi-
o
fied the ghastly pallor of the face. She stood
like one in a dream. At the leading of her
mother's hand, and as her eyes fell on the crowd,
in a strange voice, that voice which thrills the
heart more than any other can, speaking as it
does of the mind's departure, she said, " Who's
dead? Who's dead ?"
248 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
John Sherwood sprang forward, dropping his
musket on the floor.
"Joan, Joan, my daughter!' he cried, and
buried her face in his bosom.
With cries of hate and rage, the crowd sprang
like hounds unleashed upon Samuel Forrest.
And Mistress Sherwood shut the door.
The Angel and the Shepherds.
LEW WALLACE.
Adapted from "Ben Hur.' Used by permission of the
publishers, Harper and Brothers.
A mile and a half, it may be two miles, southeast of Beth-
lehem, there is a plain separated from the town by an inter-
vening swell of the mountain. At the side farthest from the
town, close under a bluff, there was an extensive sheepcot,
ages old.
A number of shepherds, seeking fresh walks for their
flocks, led them up to this plain ; and from early morning
the groves had been made to ring with calls, and the blows of
axes, the bleating of sheep and goats, the tinkling of bells, the
lowing of cattle, and the barking of dogs. When the sun
went down, they led the way to the marsh, and by nightfall
had everything safe in the field ; then they kindled a fire
down by the gate, partook of their humble supper, and sat
down to rest and talk, leaving one on watch.
There were six of these men, omitting the watchman ;
and after a while they assembled in a group near the fire,
some sitting, some lying prone. As they went bareheaded
habitually, their hair stood out in thick, coarse, sunburnt
THE Afi'GEL AA'D THE SHEPHERDS.
249
shocks; their beards covered their throats, and fell in mats
down their breasu ; mantles of skin wrapped them from neck
to knee, leaving t'le arms exposed ; broad belts girthed the
rude garments tc their waists; their sandals were of the
coarsest quality; from their right shoulders hung scrips con-
taining food and selected stones for slings, with which they
were armed ; on th.^ ground near each one lay his crook, a
symbol of his calling and a weapon of offence.
SUCH were the shepherds of Judea ! In appear-
ance, rough and savage as the gaunt dogs sitting
with them around the blaze; in fact, simple-
minded, tender-hearted : effects due, in part, to
the primitive life they led, but chiefly to their
constant care of things lovable and helpless.
They rested and talked ; and their talk was all
about their flocks, a dull theme to the world, yet
a theme which was all the world to them. While
they talked, and before the first watch was over,
one by one the shepherds went to sleep, each
lying where he had sat.
The night, like most nights of the winter sea-
son in the hill country, was clear, crisp, and
sparkling with stars. There was no wind. The
atmosphere seemed never so pure, and the still-
ness was more than silence ; it was a holy hush,
a warning that heaven was stooping lo\v to whis-
per some good thing to the listening earth.
By the gate, hugging his mantle close, the
watchman walked ; at times he stopped, attracted
by a jackal's cry off on the mountain-side. The
midnight was slow coming to him ; but at last it
250 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
came. His task was done ; now for the dream-
less sleep with which labor blesses its wearied
children ! He moved towards the fire, but
paused ; a light was breaking around him, soft
and white, like the moon's. He waited breath-
lessly. The light deepened ; things before invis-
ible came into view ; he saw the whole field, and
all it sheltered. A chill sharper than that of the
frosty air — a chill of fear — smote him. He
looked up ; the stars were gone ; the light was
dropping as from a window in the sky ; as he
looked, it became a splendor ; then, in terror, he
cried,
" Awake, awake ! '
Up sprang the dogs, and, howling, ran away.
The herds rushed together bewildered.
The men clambered to their feet, weapons in
hand.
u What is it? " they asked, in one voice.
" See ! ' cried the watchman, " the sky is on
fire ! "
Suddenly the light became intolerably bright,
and they covered their eyes, and dropped upon
their knees ; then, as their souls shrank with fear,
they fell upon their faces blind and fainting, and
would have died had not a voice said to them,
" Fear not ! "
And they listened.
" Fear not : for behold, I bring you good tid-
ings of great joy, which shall be to all people."
7 •///-; ANGEL AND Til/-. SHEPHERDS.
251
The voice, in sweetness and soothing more
than human, ami low and clear, penetrated all
their beings, and filled them with assurance.
They rose upon their knees, and, looking wor-
siiipfully, beheld in the centre of a great glory
the appearance of a man, clad in a robe intensely
white ; above its shoulders towered the tops of
wings shining and folded ; a star over its forehead
glowed brilliant as Hesperus ; its hands were
stretched towards them in blessing ; its face was
serene and divinely beautiful.
They had often heard, and, in their simple
way, talked, of angels ; and they doubted not
now, but said, in their hearts, The glory of God
is about us, and this is he who of old came to
the prophet by the river of Ulai.
Directly the angel continued :
" For unto you is born this day, in the city of
David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord ! '
Again there was a rest, while the words sank
into their minds.
"And this shall be a sign unto you," the an-
nunciator said next. " Ye shall find the babe,
wrapped in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger."
The herald spoke not again ; his good tidings
were told ; yet he stayed awhile. Suddenly the
light, of which he seemed the centre, turned
roseate and began to tremble ; then up, as far as
the men could see, there was a flashing of white
wings, and coming and going of radiant forms,
252 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
and voices as of a multitude chanting in unison :
<; Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace, good-will towards men ! '
Not once the praise, but many times.
Then the herald raised his eyes as seeking ap-
proval of one far off ; his wings stirred, and
spread slowly and majestically ; when they were
expanded many cubits beyond his stature, he
rose lightly, and, without effort, floated out of
view, taking the light up with him. Long after
he was gone, down from the sky fell the refrain
in measure mellowed by distance, " Glory to God
in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will
towards men."
When the shepherds came fully to their senses,
they stared at each other stupidly, until one of
them said, " It was Gabriel, the Lord's mes-
senger unto men."
o
None answered.
" Christ the Lord is born ; said he not so ? '
Then another recovered his voice, and replied,
" That is what he said."
" And did he not also say, in the city of David,
which is our Bethlehem yonder? Let us go up
and worship him."
THE KING OF BOYVILLE. 253
i
The King of Boyville.
WILLIAM ALLI.N WHITE.
Adapted. Used by permission of the publishers,
Doubleday and McClure Co.
THKKK was one thing Piggy Pennington could
n<>t do, and it was the one of all things which he
most wished he could do; he could not, under
any circumstances, say three consecutive and
coherent words to any girl under fifteen and over
nine. He was invited, with nearly all the boys
of his age in town, to children's parties. And
while any other boy, whose only accomplishment
was turning a cartwheel, or skinning the cat
backwards, or, at most, hanging by one leg and
turning a handspring, could boldly ask a girl if
he could see her home, Piggy had to get his hat
and sneak out of the house when the company
broke up. Even after school Pi'cfjjy could not
A o oy
join the select coterie of boys who followed the
girls down through town to the post-office. He
could not tease the girls about absent boys at
such times and make up rhymes like
" First the cat and then her tail ;
Jimmy Sears and Maggie Hale,1'
and shout them out for the crowd to hear. In-
stead of joining the courtly troupe, Piggy Pen-
nington went off with the boys who really didn't
254 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
care for such things, and fought, or played
" tracks up," or wrestled his way leisurely
home in time to get in his " night wood."
But his heart was not in these pastimes ; it was
with a red shawl of a peculiar shade, that was
wending its way to the post-office and back to
a home in one of the few two-story houses in the
little town. Time and time again had Piggy
tried to make some sign to let his feelings be
known, but every time he had failed. Lying in
wait for her at corners and suddenly breaking
upon her with a glory of backward and forward
somersaults did not convey the state of his
heart. Hanging by his heels from an apple-tree
limb over the sidewalk in front of her, unex-
pectedly, did not tell the tender tale for which
his lips could find no words. And so, everything
put together, poor Piggy was no nearer a de-
claration at the end of winter than he had been
at the beginning of autumn. So only one heart
beat with but a single thought, and the other
took motto candy and valentines and red apples
and picture cards from other boys, and beat on
with any number of thoughts, entirely im-
material to the uses of this narrative.
One morning in the late spring, he spent half
an hour before breakfast among his mother's
roses, which were just in first bloom. He had
taken out there all the wire from an old broom
and all his kite-string. His mother had to call
THE KING OF BOY \ 'JL I. E. 255
three times before he would leave his work.
The youngster was the first to leave the table,
and by eight o'clock he was at his task again.
Before the first schoolbell had rung, Piggy
Pennincton was bound for the schoolhouse with
o
a strange-looking parcel under his arm. He
tried to put his coat over it, but it stuck out,
and the newspaper that was wrapped around it
bulged into so many corners that it looked like
a hometied bundle of laundry.
Just before school was called, Piggy Penning-
ton was playing " scrub ' with all his might,
and a little girl — his Heart's Desire — was taking
out of her desk a wreath of roses tied to a shaky
wire frame. There was a crowd of girls round
her, admiring it and speculating about the
probable author of the gift ; but to these she
did not show the patent-medicine card on which
was scrawled, over the druggist's advertisement,
"Yours truly, W. H. P."
When the last bell rang, Piggy Pennington
was the last boy in, and he did not look toward
the desk where he had put the flowers, until
after the sinsrinfj.
O O
Then he stole a sidewise glance that way, and
his Heart's Desire was deep in her geography.
It was an age before she filed past him with the
" B " class in geography, and took a seat directly
in front of him, where lie could look at her all
the time, unobserved by her. Once she squir-
256 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
med in her place and looked toward him, but
Piggy Pennington was head over heels in the
"Iser rolling rapidly." When their eyes did
meet at last, just as Piggy, leading the march-
ing round the room, was at the door to go out
for recess, the thrill amounted to a shock that
sent him whirling in a pinwheel of handsprings
toward the ball ground shouting " scrub — first
bat, first bat, first bat," from sheer bubbling joy.
Piggy made four tallies that recess, and the
other boys couldn't have put him out if they
had used a hand-grenade or a Babcock fire-ex-
tinguisher.
He received four distinct shots that day from
the eyes of his Heart's Desire, and the last one
sent him home on the run, tripping up every
primary urchin whom he found tagging along by
the way, and whooping at the top of his voice.
The next morning Piggy Pennington aston-
ished his friends by bringing a big armful of red
and yellow and pink and white roses to school.
He had never done this before ; and when he
had run the gauntlet of the big boys, who were
not afraid to steal them from him, he made
straight for his school-room, and stood holding
them in his hands while the girls gathered round
him, teasing for the beauties. It was nearly
time for the last bell to ring, and Piggy knew
that his Heart's Desire would be in the room by
the time he got there. He was not mistaken.
THE KL\G 01< HO Yl'JLLl..
Hut Heart's Desire did not clamor with the other
-iris for one of the roses. Piggy stood off their
pleadings as long as he could with " Naw ;
Why, naw, of course I won't; Naw, what
I want to give you one for ? ' and " Go away
from here, I tell you ;' and still Heart's Desire
did not ask for her flowers. There were but a
few minutes left before school would be called to
order, and in desperation Piggy gave one rose
away. It was not a very pretty rose, but he
hoped she would see that the others were to be
given away, and ask for one. But she, his
Heart's Desire stood near a window, talking to
the freckled-faced boy. Then Piggy gave away
one rose after another. As the last bell began
to ring, he gave them to the boys, as the girls
were all supplied. And still she came not.
There was one rose left, the most beautiful of
all. She went to her desk, and as the teacher
came in, bell in hand, Piggy surprised himself,
the teacher, and the school, by laying the beauti-
ful flower, without a word, on the teacher's desk.
That day was a dark day. When a new boy.
who didn't belong to the school, came up at re-
cess to play, Piggy shuffled over to him and
asked gruffly :
" What's your name ? '
" Puddin' V tame, ask me agin an' I'll tell you
the same," said the new boy, and then there wa-
a fight. It didn't soothe Piggy's feelings one bit
258 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
that he whipped the new boy, for the new boy
was smaller than Piggy. And he dared not turn
his flushed face towards his Heart's Desire. It
was almost four o'clock when Piggy Pennington
walked to the master's desk to get him to work out
a problem, and as he passed the desk of Heart's
Desire, he dropped a note into her lap. It read :
" Are you mad ? '
But he dared not look for an answer as they
marched out that night ; so he contented him-
self with punching the boy ahead of him with a
pin, and stepping on his heels, when they were
in the back part of the room, where the teacher
could not see him. The King of Boyville walked
home alone that evening. The courtiers saw
plainly that his majesty was troubled.
In his barn he sat listlessly on a nail-keg,
while Abe and the freckle-faced boy did their
deeds of daring on the rings and the trapeze.
Only when the new boy came in did Piggy arouse
himself to mount the flying bar, and, swinging in
it to the very rafters, drop, and hang by his knees,
and again drop from his knees, catching his ankle
in the angle of the rope where it meets the
swinging bar. That was to awe the new boy.
After this feat the King was quiet.
At dusk, when the evening chores were done,
Piggy Pennington walked past the home of his
Heart's Desire, and howled out a doleful ballad
which beeran :
/•///•; A'fXG 01- /•'() Yl 7LL / . 259
" \n\\ ask what makes this darky \vi-e-cep,
Why he like others am not gay."
"But a man on the sidewalk, passing, said, " Well,
son, that's pretty good but wouldn't you just as
lief sing as to make that noise?' So the King
went to bed with a heavy heart.
He took that heart to school with him the
next morning and dragged it over the school-
ground, playing crack-the-whip and " stink-
base." But when he saw Heart's Desire wearing
in her hair one of the white roses from his
mother's garden — the Pennington's had the only
white roses in the little town — he knew it was
from the wreath he had given her ; and so light
was his boyish heart that it was with an effort
that he kept it out of his throat. There were
smiles and smiles that day. During the singing
they began, and every time she came past him
from a class, and every time he could pry his
eyes behind her geography or her grammar, a
flood of gladness swept over his soul. That night
Piggy Pennington followed the girls from the
schoolhouse to the post-office, and in a burst of
enthusiasm walked on his hands in front of the
crowd for nearly half a block.
\Yhen his Heart's Desire said : " Oh ! ain't
you afraid you'll hurt yourself doing that?'
Piggy pretended not to hear her, and said to the
boys :
" Aw, that ain't nuthin' ; come down to my
260 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
barn, an' I'll do somepin that'll make your head
swim.'
He was too exuberant to contain himself; and
when he left the girls he started to run after
a stray chicken that happened along, and ran
till he was out of breath. He did not mean to
run in the direction his Heart's Desire had taken
but he turned a corner and came up with her
suddenly.
Her eyes beamed upon him, and he could not
run away as he wished. She made room for him
on the sidewalk, and he could do nothing but
walk beside her. For a block they were so
embarrassed that neither spoke.
It was Piggy who broke the silence. His
words came from his heart. He had not yet
learned to speak otherwise.
" Where's your rose ? ' he asked, not seeing it.
" What rose ? ' said the girl, as though she
had never in her short life heard of such an
absurd thing as a rose.
" Oh, you know," returned the boy, stepping
irregularly, to make the tips of his toes come on
the cracks in the sidewalk. There was another
pause, during which Piggy picked up a pebble,
and threw it at a bird in a tree. His heart was
sinking rapidly.
"Oh, that rose?' said his Heart's Desire,
turning full upon him with the enchantment of
her childish eyes. " Why, here it is in my
GRAXT.
26 1
grammar. I'm taking it to keep with the Others.
Why?"
" Oh, nuthin' much," replied the boy. " I'll
bet you can't do this," he added as he glowed
up into her eyes from an impulsive hand-spring.
Ami thus the King of Boyville first set his
light little foot upon the soil of unknown country.
Nominating General Grant.
SENATOR CONKLING.
" When asked what state he hails from,
Our sole reply shall be,
He comes from Appomattox,
And its famous apple-tree."
IN obedience to instructions I should never
dare to disregard — expressing, also, my own firm
convictions — I rise to propose a nomination with
which the country and the Republican party can
grandly win. The election before us is to be the
Austerlitz of American politics. It will decide,
for many years, whether the country shall be
Republican or Cossack. The supreme need of
the hour is not a candidate who can carry
Michigan. All Republican candidates can do
that. The need is not of a candidate who is
popular in the Territories, because they have no
vote. The need is of a candidate who can carry
262 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
doubtful states. Not the doubtful states of
the North alone, but doubtful states of the
South, which we have heard, if I understand it
right, ought to take little or no part here, be-
cause the South has nothing to give, but every-
thing to receive. No, gentlemen, the need that
presses upon the conscience of this Convention
is of a candidate who can carry doubtful states
both North and South. And believing that he,
more surely than any other man, can carry New
York against any opponent, and can carry not
only the North, but several states of the South,
New York is for Ulysses S. Grant. Never de-
feated in peace or in war, his name is the most
illustrious borne by living man.
His services attest his greatness, and the
country — nay, the world— knows them by heart*
His fame was earned not alone in things written
and said, but by the arduous greatness of things
done. And perils and emergencies will search in
vain in the future, as they have searched in vain
in the past, for any other on whom the nation
leans with such confidence and trust. Never
having had a policy to enforce against the will
of the people, he never betrayed a cause or a
friend, and the people will never desert nor be-
tray him. Standing on the highest eminence of
human distinction, modest, firm, simple and self-
poised, having filled all lands with his renown,
he has seen not only the high-born and the titled,
NOM1XA TL\G GENERAL GRAXT. 263
but the pour and the lowly in the uttermost ends
of the earth, rise and uncover before him. 11<
has studied the needs and the defects of many
systems of government, and he has returned a bet-
ter American than ever, with a wealth of know-
ledge and experience added to the hard common
sense which shone so conspicuously in all the
fierce light that beat upon him during sixteen
years, the most trying, the most portentous, the
most perilous in the nation's history.
Vilified and reviled, ruthlessly aspersed by un-
numbered presses, not in other lands but in his
own, assaults upon him have seasoned and
strengthened his hold on the public heart.
Calumny's ammunition has all been exploded;
the powder has all been burned once ; its force is
spent ; the name of Grant will glitter a bright and
imperishable star in the diadem of the republic
when those who have tried to tarnish that name
have moldered in forgotten graves, and when
their memories and their epitaphs have vanished
utterly.
Never elated by success, never depressed by
adversity, he has ever, in peace as in war, shown
the genius of common sense. The terms he pre-
scribed for Lee's surrender foreshadowed the
wisest prophecies and principles of true recon-
struction. Victor in the greatest war of modern
times, he quickly signalized his aversion to war
and his love of peace by an arbitration to in-
264 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ternal disputes, which stands as the wisest, the
most majestic example of its kind in the world's
diplomacy. When inflation, at the height of its
popularity and frenzy, had swept both Houses of
Congress, it was the veto of Grant, which, single
and alone, overthrew expansion and cleared the
way for specie resumption. To him, immeasur-
ably more than to any other man, is due the fact
that every paper dollar is at last as good as gold.
With him as our leader we shall have no de-
fensive campaign. No ! We shall have nothing
to explain away. We shall have no apologies to
make. The shafts and the arrows have all been
aimed at him, and they lie broken and harmless
at his feet.
Life, liberty and property will find a safeguard
in him. When he said of the colored men in
Florida, " Wherever I am, they may come also "
when he so said, he meant that, had he the
power, the poor dwellers in the cabins of the
South should no longer be driven in terror from
the homes of their childhood, and the graves of
their murdered dead. When he refused to see
Dennis Kearney in California, he meant that
communism, lawlessness and disorder, although
it might stalk high-headed and dictate law to a
whole city, would always find a foe in him. He
meant that, popular or unpopular, he would hew
to the line of right, let them fly where they
may.
NOMINATING GENERAL GRANT, 265
His integrity, his common sense, his courage,
his unequalled experience, are the qualities
offered to his country. The only argument, the
only one that the wit of man or the stress of
politics has devised, is one which would dumb-
found Solomon, because he thought there was
nothing new under the sun. I laving tried Grant
twice and found him faithful, we are told that
we must not, even after an interval of years,
trust him again. My countrymen ! my country-
men ! what stultification does not such a fallacy
involve ! Is this an electioneering juggle, or is
it hypocrisy's masquerade ? There is no field of
human activity, responsibility, or reason in which
rational beings object to an agent because he
has been weighed in the balance and not found
wanting. There is, I say, no department of
human reason in which sane men reject an agent
because he has had experience, making him
exceptionally competent and fit. From the man
who shoes your horse, to the lawyer who tries
your cause, the officer who manages your railway
or your mill, the doctor into whose hands you
give your life, or the minister who seeks to save
your soul, what man do you reject because by
his works you have known him and found him
faithful and fit ? What makes the Presidential
office an exception to all things else in the
common sense to be applied to selecting its
incumbent? Who dares — who dares to put
266 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
fetters on that free choice and judgment which
is the birthright of the American people? Can
it be said that Grant has used official power and
place to perpetuate his term ? He has no place,
and official power has not been used for him.
Without patronage and without emissaries, with-
out committees, without bureaus, without tele-
graph wires running from his house to this
Convention, or running from his house any where
else, this man is the candidate whose friends
have never threatened to bolt unless this Con-
vention did as they said. He is a Republican
who never wavers. He and his friends stand by
the creed and the candidates of the Republican
party. They hold the rightful rule of the major-
ity as the very essence of their faith, and they
mean to uphold that faith against not only the
common enemy, but against the charlatans, jay-
hawkers, tramps and guerrillas — the men who
deploy between the lines, and forage now on one
side and then on the other. This Convention
is master of a supreme opportunity. It can
name the next President. It can make sure of
his election. It can make sure not only of his
election, but of his certain and peaceful inaugu-
ration. More than all, it can break that power
which dominates and mildews the South. It
can overthrow an organization whose very exist-
ence is a standing protest against progress.
The purpose of the Democratic party is spoils,
THE L,'Ul'^A'A'UA"S LASS' LEVEE.
Its very hope of existence is a solid South. Its
success is ;i menace to order and prosperity. I
say this Convention can overthrow that power.
It can dissolve and emancipate a solid South,
can speed the nation in a career of grandeur
eclipsing all past achievements.
Gentlemen, we have only to listen above the
din and look beyond the dust of an hour to
behold the Republican party advancing with its
ensigns resplendent with illustrious achieve-
ments, marching to certain and lasting victory
with its greatest Marshal at its head.
The Governor's Last Levee.
SARA BEAUMONT KENNEDY.
Copyrighted, 1899, by The Curtis Publishing Company.
Reprinted by courtesy of The Ladies' Home Journal.
THOMAS RUFFIN had been found guilty of
treason against his serene and gracious majesty
across the sea, King George the Third, and the
full penalty of the law was to be exacted. IIi>
lawyer, Master Gaston, was at his wit's end for
his client, but managed to delay the matter,
hoping for official clemency. Thomas Ruffin
was engaged to Priscilla Spaight but Anise Burg-
wyn had loved him from her childhood.
The morning of the Governor's ball, Betty
268 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Gaston, with her hair in crimping-pins, came
hastily in, for she had news indeed.
" What think you, Anise? Yesterday Priscilla
made petition to Governor Martin for Master
Ruffin's life and liberty. Oh ! but she wept
most sorely, and father says it took a heart of
stone to refuse her. But the Governor was un-
moved, and says the law must take its course."
" Is — is there no way else by which he may be
saved ? '
" Naught, save he manages to escape. But
father says the thing now is to gain Colonel Fer-
guson's influence. You only can do the latter,
Anise, for all know his love for you ; and so
father says that you certainly must go to the
ball to-night and be as gracious as you know how.
You will do this for Priscilla?'
And so it was that when darkness fell, Anise
made herself beautiful in her lilac satin, her pearl
necklace, and her shoes with their silver buckles,
and went away to the palace. The magnificence
of the scene had never been surpassed in the
Colonial capital, and was never to be repeated
under kingly rule.
At the head of the room stood Governor Martin
and by his side, in the splendid uniform of Eng-
land, was his aid and nephew, Colonel Ferguson,
the personification of youth and the joy of life.
At the earliest moment he was at Anise's side,
protesting that the evening would be spoiled for
THE UDI 7:A\YOA"S L AS 1 ' L E I '£> E. -' "J
him if she were pledged to any one else for the
cotillion.
" Master Gaston bids high for the dance," she
said," offering me his new riding-horse. Will you
raise his bid ? '
4< Even unto the half of my kingdom ! " he an-
swered. She held out the tablet. " Enough ! I
will name the wager later."
He wrote his name on the card, declaring as he
did so that she should have her will, and that no
price was too high for the honor she had accorded
him. Then someone plucked him by the sleeve
and he found himself obliged to give his attention
to new arrivals.
They talked apart in undertones ; but presently
Anise, who stood near by at a table spread with
curios, caught these words :
" .... a plot to arouse public sympathy.
Your influence is to be most adroitly sought, but
you must be upon your guard. It behooves us
to make an example of this fellow if we hope for
peace."
" Any intercession on his behalf would be use-
less," answered Ferguson ; " Thomas Ruffin is a
doomed man. The order for his execution was
this day written and signed."
" And his associates — what of them ?
" Being but minor offenders, my uncle hath
listened to the court's recommendation for mercy,
and orders for their release lie on his Excel L
2/0 NEIV PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKIXG.
ency's table, along with the sentence of Master
Ruffin, awaiting but the insertion of the names
and the affixing of the official seal. You see,
the matter is beyond my influence."
" There can be no mistake about this?'
" You may rest satisfied, for I left the papers
upon my uncle's desk in the secretary's room not
an hour ago. They will be the first things he
sees in the morning." A cry from Anise brought
him to her side.
" I have cut my hand with this stiletto while
examining it," Anise cried, holding up a bleeding
finger.
" Even Spanish steel is treacherous," he said,
whipping out his lace handkerchief to staunch
the drops of blood.
" 'Tis but a scratch, after all. Take back your
handkerchief, for which I thank you."
" That stain upon it makes it sacred."
To the remainder of his conversation she
made but incoherent answers, for her thoughts
were in a tumult, out of which a fixed plan
gradually shaped itself. With feverish impatience
she waited the opening of the minuet when Fer-
guson must seek his partner. With the first
strains of the dance he bowed himself off ; but
when John Gaston sought Anise by the table of
curios she was not there.
In the hall, in the shadow of a curtain, she
stood until the dancing had begun. Then she
THE GO VEK\L' A S LAST 1. 1: 1 ''EE. 2 7 I
crept to the rear stairway, and sped downward
through the semi-darkness. The order for
o
Thomas Ruffin's execution was on the Gov-
ernor's table in the secretary's office : the morn-
incr liirht must not find it there ! She had meant
o o
to make his liberty the price of her dance with
Ferguson, but this was a surer way.
In the lower hallway Anise opened without
hesitation the door on the right hand and stood
a moment to listen. The flambeaux from the
court without, threw a fitful light into the col-
onnade along which she must pass, and a sol-
dier strode back and forth in the full glare just
outside the row of columns. If she were de-
tected, she would, perchance, pay the forfeit with
her life ; if she succeeded, Thomas would be saved.
She gathered her lilac satin gown close about her,
set her teeth hard, and waited in the dark of
the doorway until the guard came close to her
and then turned on his beat. Like some stealthy,
cat-footed animal of the night she followed
him from the shadow of one column to the
shadow of another. Behind the last column she
waited with tense muscles while he reached the
door of the office building and slowly faced about.
Nothing but that stone pillar was between her
and a fate she dared not picture to herself even
for a moment. Cautiously, step by step, as the
guard advanced she moved around the column,
keeping it always between herself and him.
2/2 .\Y: /r PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAK1XG.
One, two, three, four measured footfalls, and
the man was opposite her ; another would take
him past ; but he had stopped, and the blood in
her veins stood still.
"Who goes there?"
The question seemed thunderous in the dark-
ness, and the silence which followed was as the
stillness of the tomb, while on opposite sides of
the column they waited and listened. The big
clock on the stairs ticked, perchance, three times
ere, with a grunt, the man passed on satisfied ;
but to Anise the space of a lifetime seemed
crowded into those fleeting moments. His back
once turned, she crossed the intervening space
quickly but still stealthily, and darting under the
flambeaux which hung beside the open door,
leaned panting against the wall in the dim pas-
sage. At a table sat a porter snoring loudly,
the empty flagon beside him telling its own tale.
The door beyond him was her destination. But
when she had crept to it she found it locked.
She wrung her hands in an agony of despair.
Outside, the guard was again approaching the
door and she had to crouch behind the sleeping
porter to save herself. But it was this action
that solved the new difficulty, for, brought thus
near to him, she saw that a bunch of keys hung
from his jerkin pocket. Instantly her hand had
drawm the keys away, and she was back at the
door, trembling with excitement. The first key
/ '///•; GO I '/-. A'.\ OA"S I. .-/ . , / /, A / 7: A . ~ ~ ]
:s too large, the second too small, but the
tliird turned under her either finders and the door
swung open. Insid'-, she dropped upon her
knees, for a taper burned on the table, and those
without might see her through the thin curtains.
Crossing the room thus, she lifted herself care-
fully until the contents of the table were spread
before her. This was not the paper, nor that,
nor that. Here was another — but what v
that sound? A step in the hall? Her blood
turned from fire to ice. No, it was but a horse
champing at his bit in the court-yard. Ah ! the
papers must be in this packet tied with its fresh
tape. Yes, here it was: "Order in Case of
Thomas Ruffin." Her fingers shook so she could
scarcely thrust the document into the bosom of
her gown. With a feverishly reiterated prayer
of gratitude she was about to crawl away when
another paper in the packet caught her eye. It
was the order of release from prison for one of
Thomas' associates ; the blank space was there
for the name, the place below for the Governor's
il. This was the more important paper. If
she only dared ! For one moment the table
reeled before the girl's eyes; then her mouth
grew hard ; her hand reached for the quill ; then
for the s -aling-wax ; then for the Governor's die
that lay on the tray. A moment more and
Thomas kuffin's name filled the blank line of
the release order and the red seal was in its
proper place.
2/4 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Anise could have shrieked aloud in her ner-
vous joy as this paper was placed with the other
over her heart. She did not know that her hand
was throbbing and bleeding anew from the
stiletto wound. She knew only that she held
Thomas Ruffin's life and liberty in her grasp.
Into the sleeping porter's pocket she put back
the keys, and through the crevice of the door
watched the guard as he approached and wheeled
about. Now was her time ! As she stepped
out, a gust of wind extinguished the flickering
torch by the entrance, and in the darkness of the
colonnade she eluded the returning sentry. She
heard him call to the porter that the wind had
put out the flambeaux, but ere it was rekindled
she had passed through the door of the main
building and reached the upper hall in safety.
On a divan she sank breathless. And there
Colonel Ferguson found her when the musicians
were scraping out the prelude to the cotillion.
•* * * * % * #
•New Berne town slept late the day after the
levee. But at ten o'clock there was a great stir at
the palace ; the Governor's private office had been
entered and some important papers abstracted.
Inquiry for the offender proved futile ; the porter
declared the keys had not been out of his posses-
sion, and a sentinel had guarded the office door
all night. Colonel Ferguson rode in hot haste to
the jail only to find the jailer serene and smiling.
THE GOl'ERXOK'S LAST LEVEE. ?7$
"Master Ruffin ? Oh! yes, sir, he got off all
right."
o
Ferguson raged, but the man told his story
cheerfully. Ik-fore dawn, while the levee was
still at its height, a man and a woman had come
to the jail with an order for Master Ruffin's im-
mediate release; and as the paper was duly
signed and stamped he had let the prisoner go.
There had been a horse at the corner, but he
did not watch to see which road Thomas took.
No ; he did not know the other man, and he did
not see the lady's face, but her hair hung from
under her hood and was long and black.
"By midday the town was seething with ex-
citement over the escape, and explanations were
offered and rejected. Thomas Ruffin was gone.
A month went by and no clue was discovered.
Ferguson had chafed over his failure to unravel
the mystery of Ruffin's escape. He had secured
from the jailer the illegal order of release, and
one afternoon, he spread the paper upon his
dressing-table and studied it critically, although
he knew it by heart, from a certain mark, as
from a bloody finger, in one corner. That
finger-mark had always puzzled him. As he
read he plunged his hand into one of the dresser
drawers in search of a handkerchief, and drew
out by chance the one he had used the night of
the levee. It was crumpled and soiled, and hu
was about to throw it aside when, with a startled
2/6 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
cry, he stopped and spread it out beside the
open paper. The same red stains were upon
each. For a long minute he stood gazing from
one to the other, going over in his mind the
events of the levee night — Anise's presence near
him when he told of the papers on the desk, her
bleeding finger, her absence from the minuet,
her early departure from the ball. Then with a
low whistle he gathered the paper and handker-
chief into his pocket and ran down stairs.
" So !" Anise said, as he spread the articles before
her in her parlor, — " So you have solved your
conundrum at last. You have not a woman's
wit ; Betty Gaston guessed it the first day. Now,
pray, sir, what are you going to do with me? '
" I am what you scoff at as a Tory, Mistress
Anise, but such as my life is I would surrender
it without a blow before I betrayed a woman."
Her eyes softened : " I wanted to tell you the
first day — I knew I could trust you — but Betty
would not let me."
*.
: Why did you do it? Why risk yourself so
wantonly ? ' he asked, shuddering at her escaped
peril.
She laughed. " Betty says it was from friend-
ship for Priscilla ; my mother says I was set on
by some spirit of mischief which-
"And I say it was neither. A woman runs a
risk like that for one thing only — love ! ' Her
eyes went down before his, ''Great Heavens!
JO AM DACUXTA.
and to think of what I had begun to promise
myself ! '
" 1 owed you this confession," she said.
'Because y«>u saw that I was coming to care
for you, and it would be useless?'
"Yes."
" But, Anise," he said eagerly, "this act would
win you nothing. He loved another: you were
but saving him for a rival."
She drew herself up proudly. " I put the
order of release into Priscilla Spaight's hand
that he might receive his freedom from her and
so love her the more, knowing naught of a debt
to me."
He looked at her steadily, incredulously, but
on her lips was a smile and in her eyes there
shone only the dignity of her womanhood and
the courage of her long ancestry. Then, with
the reverence he would have paid to Majesty
itself, he bent his head and left her.
Joam Dacosta.
JULES VERNE.
The scene of this story is laid in the heart of Brazil, in a
small town on the Amazon River. The hero, Joam Dacosta,
had been arrested, tried, and unjustly condemned to death
for a diamond robbery and for the murder of the guards.
I hit during the night preceding the execution and when the
gallows was already erected, he managed to escape from
2/8 NEIV PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
the prison at Villa Rica. Twenty years later we find him
again in prison, in the town of Manoas, where our story
opens.
THE room occupied by the prisoner was
nothing like one of our modern penetentiary
system : but an old monk's room with a barred
window opening on an uncultivated space, a
bench in one corner and a sort of pallet in the
other. Here sat Joam Dacosta with his arms
resting on a small table and supporting his head.
He was pondering over his whole career; and,
lost in his thoughts and recollections, he sat,
regardless of a peculiar noise on the outer wall
of the convent, of the jerking of a rope hitched
onto a bar of his window, and of grating steel as
it cut through iron, which ought at once to have
attracted the attention of a less absorbed man.
Soon the noise outside became loud enough to
attract the prisoner's attention. For an instant
Joam raised his head : his eyes sought the win-
dow, but with a vacant look, as though he were
unconscious, and the next instant his head again
sank into his hands. Again he was deep in
thought. Suddenly the window flew open with
a violent push from without. Joam started up ;
the souvenirs of the past vanished like a shadow.
Benito, his son, leapt into the room ; and the
next moment Manoel tearing down the remain-
ing bars, appeared before him.
Joam Dacosta would have uttered a cry of
JO AM J>ACOS'J'A. 279
surprise. Benito left him no chance to do so.
" Father, the window grating is down. A rope
leads to the ground. A pirogue is waiting for
you on the canal not a hundred yards off.
Arango is there ready to take you far away from
Manoas, on the other bank of the Amazon where
your track will never be discovered ! Father,
you must escape this very moment! It was the
judge's own suggestion ! '
" It must be done ! " added Manoel.
" Fly ! I ! — Fly a second time ! Escape again ?
Never ! '
The young men had never thought of a diffi-
culty like this. They had never reckoned on
the hindrances to escape coming from the pris-
oner himself. Benito advanced to his father and
looking him straight in the face, and taking both
his hands in his, not to force him, but to try and
convince him, said — " Never, did you say
father?"
"Never!"'
" Father," said Manoel, — " listen to us ! If we
tell you that you ought to fly without losing an
instant, it is because, if you remain, you will be
guilty towards others, towards yourself! '
" To remain," continued Benito, " is to remain
to die! The order for execution may come at
any moment1 If you imagine that the justice
of men will nullify a wrong decision, if you
think it will rehabilitate you whom it condemned
28O NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
twenty years since, you are mistaken ! There
is hope no longer ! You must escape ! Come ! '
By an irresistible impulse Benito seized his
father and drew him towards the window. Joam
Dacosta struggled from his son's grasp and
recoiled a second time. " To fly is to dishonor
myself, and you with me ! It would be a con-
fession of my guilt ! Of my own free will I
surrender myself to my country's judges, and
I will wait their decision, whatever that decision
may be ! '
"But the presumptions on which you trusted
are insufficient," replied Manoel, " and the
material proof of your innocence is still wanting.
If we tell you that you ought to fly, it is be-
cause the judge himself told us so. You have
now only this one chance left, to escape from
death ! "
" I will die then ! I will die protesting against
the decision which condemned me ! The first
time a few hours before the execution — I fled !
Yes ! I was young then. I had my whole life
before me in which to struggle against man's
injustice ! But to save myself now, to begin
again the miserable existence of a felon hiding
under a false name, whose every effort is re-
quired to avoid the pursuit of the police ; again
to live the life of anxiety which I have led
three and twenty years, and oblige you to share
it with me; to wait each day for a denunciation
JOAM I'ACOSTA. 28 I
\vliich sooner or later must come ; to wait for the
claim for extradition which would follow me to
a foreign country ! Am I to live for that !
No! Never!"
" Father," interrupted Benito, whose mind
threatened to give way before such obstinacy,
"you shall fly! I will have it so!' and he
caught hold of Joam Dacosta and tried by
force to drag him to the window.
" No, NO ! "
" You wish to drive me mad ! '
" My son, listen to me ! Once I escaped
from prison at Villa Rica, and people believed
I fled from well-merited punishment. Yes, they
had reason to think so. Well, for the honor
of the name which you bear I shall not do so
again."
Benito had fallen on his knees before his
father. He held up his hands to him ; he
begged him.
" But this order, father, this order which is
due to-day — even now — it will contain your
sentence of death."
" The order may come but my determination
will not change. No, my son ! Joam Dacosta,
guilt\r, might fly ! Joam Dacosta, innocent, will
not fly!"
The scene which followed these words was
heartrending. Benito struggled with his father,
o *-* *— *
Manoel, distracted, kept near the window ready
282 XEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
to carry off the prisoner — when the door of the
room opened.
On the threshold appeared the chief of the
police, accompanied by the warden of the prison
and a few soldiers. The chief understood at a
glance that an attempt at escape was being
made ; but he also understood from the prisoner's
attitude that it was he who had no wish to go !
He said nothing. The sincerest pity was
depicted on his face. Doubtless he also, like
the judge, would have liked Dacostato escape.
It was too late !
The chief of police, who held a paper in his
hand, advanced toward the prisoner.
"Before all of you," said Joam Dacosta, " let
me tell you, sir, that it only rested with me to
escape, and that I would not do so."
The chief bowed his head, and then, in a
voice which he vainly tried to control, — " Joam
Dacosta, the order has this moment arrived
from the chief justice at Rio Janiero."
" This order requires the execution of my
sentence ? '
"Yes!"
" And that will take place ? "
" To-morrow."
Benito threw himself on his father. Again
would he have dragged him from his cell, but
the soldiers came and drew away the prisoner
from his grasp.
JO AM DACOSTA. 2X3
At a sign from the chief of police Benito and
Manoel \vcre taken away.
Tho chief retired with the warder and the
soldiers. And the doomed man, who had now
but a few hours to live, was left alone.
Nothing could now save Joam Dacosta. It
was not only life but honor that he was about to
lose.
On the day of the execution a man was seen
approaching Manoas with all the speed his horse
was capable of, and such had been the pace at
which he came that half a mile from the
town the horse fell, incapable of carrying him
farther.
The rider did not even stop to raise his steed ;
but despite the state of exhaustion in which he
found himself, he rushed off in the direction of
the city.
Suddenly he stopped as if his feet had become
rooted in the ground. He had reached the
entrance to a small square, onto which opened
one of the town gates.
There in the midst of a dense crowd, arose
the gallows towering up some twenty feet, and
from it hung a rope.
lie felt his consciousness abandon him. He
fell ; his eyes involuntarily closed. He did not
wish to look, and these words escaped his lips :
"Too late! too late!' But by a superhuman
effort he raised himself. No: it was not too
284 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
late, the corpse of Joam Dacosta was not dan-
gling at the end of the rope !
He dashed up the principal street of Manoas,
and fell half dead on the threshold of the judge's
house. The door was shut. He had still strength
enough left to knock at it.
One of the magistrate's servants came to open
it ; his master would see no one.
In spite of this denial, he pushed back the
man who guarded the entrance, and with a
bound threw himself into the judge's study.
''Judge! Stop — stop the execution! Joam
Dacosta is innocent ! You will not leave him to
.die? It was not he who committed the crime, it
was the author of this document ! It was
Ortega ! '
As he uttered the name the judge bounded
forward. He seized the document and passing
his hand over his eyes read this name, Ortega !
At last he held the document, which would
incontestably prove the innocence of Joam
Dacosta, and without reading more than the
name he flew from his study into the street,
shouting" Halt! Halt!"
To cleave the crowd which opened as he ran,
to dash to the prison, whence the convict was
coming at that moment, with his wife and chil-
dren clinging to him with the violence of despair,
was but the work of a minute for the judge.
Stopping before Joam Dacosta, he could not
JO AM DACOSTA. JS5
speak for a second, and then these words escaped
his lips :
"Innocent! Innocent!'
On the arrival of the judge the mournful
procession halted, a roaring echo had repeated
after him, and again repeated the cry which
escaped from every mouth :
" Innocent ! Innocent ! '
Then complete silence fell on all. The people
did not want to lose one syllable of what was
about to be proclaimed.
The judge then read in the midst of profound
silence : —
" The real author of the robbery of the diamonds
and the murder of the soldiers who escorted the
convoy, committed during the night of the 22nd
of January, 1826, was not Joam Dacosta, unjustly
condemned to death : it was I, the wretched
servant of the administration of the diamond
district ; yes, I alone, who sign this with my true
name, Ortega."
The reading of this had hardly finished when
the air was rent with prolonged cries of-
" Innocent ! Innocent! Joam Dacosta inno-
cent!"
Joam Dacosta, surrounded by his wife, his
children, and his friends, was unable to shake the
hands which were held out to him. Such was
the strength of his character, that a reaction
occurred ; tears of joy escaped from his eyes, and
286 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
at the same instant his heart was lifted up to
that Providence which had come to save him so
miraculously at that moment he was about to
offer the last expiation to that God who would
not permit the accomplishment of that greatest
of crimes, the execution of an innocent man.
Grandma Keeler Gets Grandpa Keeler
Ready for Sunday School.
SALLY PRATT MCLEAN.
From " Cape Cod Folks." Used by permission of the
author.
WHILE we were eating breakfast, Grandma
Keeler observed to Grandpa: " Wall, pa, I sup-
pose you'll be all ready when the time comes to
take teacher and me over to West Wallen to
Sunday School, won't ye?'
Grandpa coughed and coughed again, and
raised his eyes helplessly to the window.
" Looks some like showers. A-hem ! a-hem !
Looks mightily to me like showers, over yonder."
" Thar', r'aly, husband ! I must say I feel
mortified for ye, seein' as you're a professor,
too, and thar' ain't been a single Sunday mornin'
since I've lived with ye, pa, summer or winter,
but what you've seen showers, and it r'aly seems
to me it's dreadful inconsistent when thar' ain't
no cloud in the sky, and don't look no more like
rain than I do.'
GRANDMA KEELEK 2X7
" A-hem ! a-hcin '. ' Fanny ' seems to be a
little lame, this mornin ," said he. "I shouldn't
wonder. She's been goin' pretty stiddy this
week."
" It does beat all, pa, how't all the horses
you've ever had since I've known ye have always
been took lame Sunday mornin'. Thar' was
1 Happy Jack,' he could go anywhere through
the week, and never limp a step, as nobody
could see, and Sunday mornin' he was always
took lame ! '
" It's a long jaunt ! a long jaunt ! '
" Thar's a long hill to climb before we reach
Zion's mount."
" Wall, there's a darned sight harder one on
the road to West Wallen ! say nothin' about the
devilish stones ! '
"Thar' now," said Grandma, with a calm
though awful reproof; "I think we've gone fur
enough for one day ; we've broke the Sabbath,
and took the name of the Lord in vain, and that
ought to be enough for professors."
Grandpa replied at length in a greatly subdued
tone: " Wall, if you and the teacher want to go
to Sunday school to-day, I suppose we can go if
we get ready. I suppose we can."
When I beheld the ordeal through which
Grandpa Keeler was called to pass, at the hands
of his faithful consort, before he was considered
in a fit condition of mind and body to embark-
288 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
for the sanctuary, I marveled not at the old
man's reluctance, nor that he had indeed seen
clouds and tempest fringing the horizon.
Immediately after breakfast, he set out for the
barn, ostensibly to " see to the chores ; " really,
I believe, to obtain a few moments' respite, be-
fore worse evil should come upon him.
Pretty soon Grandma was at the back door
calling in firm though persuasive tones : —
"Husband! husband! come in now, and get
ready."
No answer. Then it was in another key,
weighty, yet expressive of no weak irritation, that
Grandma called " Come, pa ! pa-a ! pa-a-a ! '
Still no answer.
Then that voice of Grandma's sung out like
a trumpet, terrible with meaning — " Bijonah
Keeler ! "
But Grandpa appeared not. Next, I saw
Grandma slowly but surely gravitating in the
direction of the barn, and soon she returned,
bringing with her that ancient delinquent, who
looked like a lost sheep indeed and a truly un-
reconciled one.
" Now the first thing," said Grandma, looking
her forlorn captive over; " is boots. Go and get
on yer meetin' gaiters, pa."
The old gentleman, having invested himself
with those sacred relics, came pathetically limp-
ing into the room.
KEELER.
" I declare, ma," said he ; " somehow these
tilings — phew ! Somehow they pinch my feet
dreadfully. I don't know what it is, — phew !
They're dreadful uncomfortable things some-
how."
11 Since I've know ye, pa, you've never had a
pair o' meetin' boots that set easy on yer feet.
You'd ought to get boots big enough for ye, pa,
and not be so proud as to go to pinchin' yer feet
into gaiters a number o' sizes too small for ye."
" They're number ten, I tell ye !"
" Wall, thar', now, pa, if I had sech feet as
that, I wouldn't go to spreadin' it all over town,
if I was you — but it's time we stopped bickerin'
now, husband, and get ready for meetin' ; so set
down and let me wash yer head."
" I've washed once this mornin'. It's clean
enough," Grandpa protested, but in vain. He
was planted in a chair, and Grandma Keeler,
with rag and soap and a basin of water, attacked
the old gentleman vigorously, much as I have
seen cruel mothers wash the faces of their earth-
begrimed infants. He only gave expression t<>
such groans as : —
"Thar', ma! don't tear my ears to pieces!
Come, ma ! you've got my eyes so full of soap
now, ma, that I can't see nothin'. Phew
Lordy ! ain't ye most through with this, ma ?
But here, I had to be excused and went to my
room to get ready for the Sunday school.
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING,
When I came down again, Grandpa Keeler
was seated, completely arrayed in his best
clothes, opposite Grandma, who held the big
family Bible in her lap, and a Sunday school
question book in one hand.
" Now, pa," said she ; " what tribe was it in
sacred writ that wore bunnits ? '
I was compelled to infer from the tone of
Grandpa Keeler's answer that his temper had not
undergone a mollifying process during my ab-
sence.
"Come, ma," said he; " how much longer ye
goin' to pester me in this way ? '
" Why, pa, until you git a proper under-
standin' of it. What tribe was it in sacred writ
that wore bunnits?"
" Lordy ! how d'ye suppose I know ! They
must 'a' been a tarnal old womanish lookin* set
any way."
" The tribe o' Judah, pa. Now, how good it
is, husband, to have your understanding all
freshened up on the scripters ! '
" Come, come, ma ! it's time we was startin'.
When I make up my mind to go anywhere I
always want to git there in time. If I was goin'
to the Old Harry, I should want to git there in
time."
" It's my consarn that we shall git thar' before
time, some on us unless we larn to use moiv re-
spec'ful language."
G'A'A.\/>JfA A'EKLI-.R. 2>)\
tt * * * -x- * #• #•
I sat with Grandpa on the " front ' scat — it
may be remarked that the " front ' seat was
very much front, and the " back ' seat very
much back — there was a kind of wooden shelf
built outside as a resting-place for the feet, so
that while our heads were under cover, our feet
were out, utterly exposed to the weather, and
we must either lay them on the shelf or let them
hang off into space.
####*###
The church was a square wooden edifice, of
medium size, and contained three stoves all
burning brightly. Against this, and the drowsy
effect of their long drive in the sun and wind,
my two companions proved powerless to strug-
gle.
Grandpa looked furtively at Grandma, then
endeavored to put on as a sort of apology for
what he felt was inevitably coming, a sanctimo-
nious expression which was most unnatural to
him, and which soon faded away as the sweet
unconsciousness of slumber overspread his fea-
tures. His head fell back helplessly, his mouth
opened wide. He snored, but not very loudly.
I looked at Grandma, wondering why her vig-
ilance had failed on this occasion, and, lo ! her
head was falling, peacefully from side to
She was fast asleep, too !
2Q2 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Bob.
HENRY W. GRADY.
" YOU are the no-countest, laziest, meanest dog
that ever wore breeches ! Never let me see you
• i »>
again I
Thus spoke Mrs. Tag to Mr. Tag, her husband;
she standing in the door her arms akimbo, and,
cat-like, spitting the words at him.
Mr. Tag made no reply. He stood dazed and
bewildered, as one in a sudden shower; then tur-
ning, he pulled his old hat down over his ears,
as if she was throwing rocks at him instead of
words, and shambled off in silence to meet me
on the top of the hill.
" Ann was sorter rough to me, warn't she ? '
he said, with a chuckle of deprecation.
I assented quietly to the lack of smoothness
in Ann's remarks.
" You ain't knowed me long," he said, with a
sudden flicker of earnestness, " an' you've
knowed the worst part of me. You've knowed
the trouble and the fag-end. You warn't in at
the good part of my life ! '
I should think not, poor fellow. Ever since I
had known him he had been the same shabby
good-for-nothing that he was now.
" I was a better man once ; not a better man,
either, as I know of, but I had luck. When me
an' Ann was married, there warn't a happier
BOB.
couple nowhere. I remember just as well when 1
courted her. She didn't think about me then as
she does now. \Ve had a buggy to ourselves, an'
we turned down a shady road. It seemed like
that road was the road to heavrn, an' we was so
happy that we warn't in no hurry to get to the
end of it. Ann was handsome then. Oh, yes,
she was !' -as I winced at this — "an' at first as
good a wife to me as ever a man had.
" It may 'a' been me that started the trouble.
I was unfortnit in everything I touched. My
fingers slipped off everything an' everything slip-
ped off of them. I could get no grip on nothin.'
I worked hard, but sumpin worked harder ag'in'
me. Ann was ambitious an' uppish, an' I used
to think when I come home at night, most
tired to death, she was gettin' to despise me.
She'd snap me up an' abuse me till actually I
was afraid. I never misused her or '!' 77//-.VA' OWN LENGTHS. 307
struck dumb, a womanish pallor overspreadin-.;-
his check ; then, with a cry which his listener
never forgot, lie threw his arms around his
liberator, and sobbed like a. heart-broken child.
And the Governor was not ashamed to admit
that something tightened in his throat and broke
out at his eyes, too.
Winners by Their Own Lengths.
RALPH CONNORS.
ADAPTED from " Black Rock."
Many strange Christmas Days have I seen, but that wild
Black Rock Christmas stands out strangest of all.
The sports passed off in typical Western style. In
addition to the usual running and leaping contests, there was
rifle and pistol shooting, in both of which old Nelson stood
first, with Shaw, foreman of the mines, second.
The great event of the day, however, was to be the four-
horse race, for which three teams were entered — one from
the mines driven by Nixon, a citizens1 team, and Sandy's
from the lumber camp. The race was really between the
miners' team and that from the woods, for the citizens'
team, though made up of speedy horses, had not been driven
much together and knew neither their driver nor each other.
In the miners' team were four bays, very powerful, a trifle
heavy perhaps, but well matched, perfectly trained, and per-
fectly handled by their driver. Sandy had his long, rangy
i ".ins. and for leaders a pair of half-broken pinto bronchos.
The pintos, caught the summer before upon the Alberta
prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked and uncertain. They
3O8 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
were Baptiste's special care and pride. If they would only
run straight there was little doubt that they would carry the
roans and themselves to glory ; but one could not tell the
moment they might bolt or kick things to pieces.
Being the only non-partisan in the crowd, I was asked to
referee. The race was about half a mile and return, the
first and last quarters being upon the ice. The course, after
leaving the ice, led up from the river by a long, easy slope to
the level above, and at the further end curved somewhat
sharply round the old fort. The only condition attaching to
the race was that the teams should start from the scratch,
make the turn of the fort, and finish at the scratch. There
were no vexing regulations as to fouls. The man making
the foul would find it necessary to reckon with the crowd
which was considered sufficient guarantee for a fair and
square>ace. Owing to the hazards of the course, the result
would depend upon the skill of drivers, quite as much as
upon the speed of the teams. The points of hazard were at
the turn round the old fort and at a little ravine which led
down to the river, over which the road passed by means of a
long log bridge or causeway.
A VERY good-natured but extremely uncertain
crowd had assembled to view the race. From a
point upon the high bank of the river the whole
course lay in open view. It was a scene full of
life and vividly picturesque. There were miners
in dark clothes and peak caps ; citizens in or-
dinary garb ; ranchmen in wide cowboy hats and
buckskin shirts and leggins, some with cartridge-
belts and pistols ; a few half-breeds and Indians
in half-native, half-civilized dress ; and scattering
through the crowd the lumbermen with gay scar-
let and blue blanket coats, and some with knitted
BY yy/AV/v- un:v i I:\GTJIS. 309
toques of the same colors. At the head of each
horse stood a man, but at the pintos' heads Bap-
tiste stood alone, trying to hold down the off
leader, thrown into a frenzy of fear by the yell-
ing of the crowd.
Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of
absolute stillness, came the words, "Are you
ready?' then the pistol-shot, and the great race
had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came
the shrill cry of Baptiste,as he struck his broncho
with the palm of his hand and swung himself
into the sleigh beside Sandy as it shot past.
Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front,
two lengths before the other teams ; but, terrified
o
by the yelling of the croud, instead of bending
to the left bank, up which the road wound, they
wheeled to the right and were almost across the
river before Sandy could swing them back into
the course.
Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French
and English, continued to strike through all
other sounds till they gained the top of the slope,
to find the others almost a hundred yards in
front, the citizens' team leading, with the miners'
following close. The moment the pintos caught
sight of the teams before them they set off at a
terrific pace and steadily devoured the interven-
ing space. Nearer and nearer the turn came, the
horses in front, running straight and well
o o
within their speed. After them flew the pinto .
310 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
running savagely with ears set back, leading well
the big roans, thundering along and gaining at
every bound. And now the citizens' team had
almost reached the fort, running hard and draw-
ing away from the bays. But Nixon knew what
he was about, and was simply steadying his
team for the turn. The event proved his wisdom,
for in the turn the leading team left the track,
lost for a moment or two in the deep snow, and
before they could regain the road the bays had
swept superbly past, leaving their rivals to follow
in the rear. On came the pintos, swiftly nearing
the fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make
the turn. But Sandy knows his leaders. They
have their eyes upon the teams in front and need
no touch of rein. Without the slightest change
in speed the nimble-footed bronchos round the
turn, hauling the big roans after them, and fall
in behind the citizens' team, which is regaining
steadily the ground lost in the turn.
And now the struggle is for the bridge over
the ravine. The bays in front, running with
mouths wide open, are evidently doing their
best ; behind them, and every moment nearing
them, but at the limit of their speed, too, came
the lighter and fleeter citizens' team ; while
opposite their driver are the pintos, pulling hard,
eager and fresh. Their temper is too uncertain
to send them to the front ; they run well follow-
ing, but when leading cannot be trusted, and
tt'/.\'MA'S BY Til 'El 'A' UlVN LE\L, 1'IIS. 3! I
besides, a broncho hates a bridge ; so Sandy
holds them where they are, waiting and hoping
for his chance after the bridge is crossed. Foot
by foot the citizens' team creep up upon the
flank of the bays, with the pintos in turn hugging
them closely, till it seems as if the three, if none
slackens, must strike the bridge together: and
o o
this will mean destruction to one at least. This
danger Sandy perceives, but he dare not check
his leaders. Suddenly, within a few yards of the
bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon the lines,
wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and with a
quick swing faces the pintos down the steep side
of the ravine, which is almost sheer ice with a
thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take,
for the ravine, though not deep, is full of under-
growth and is partially closed up by a brush-heap
at the further end. But with a yell Baptiste
hurls his four horses down the slope and into the
undergrowth. " Allows, vies enfants! Courage!
[7/V/ 77/V/ " cries the driver, and nobly do the
pintos respond. Regardless of bushes and brush-
heaps, they tear their way through ; but as they
emerge the hind bob-sleigh catches a root, and
with a crash the sleigh is hurled high in the air.
Baptiste's cries ring out high and shrill as ever,
encouraging his team, and never cease till, with
a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush-
heap lying at the mouth of the ravine and are
out on the ice on the river, with Baptiste standing
3 I 2 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAK 1VG.
on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and
Sandy nowhere to be seen.
Three hundred yards of the course remain.
The bays, perfectly handled, have gained at the
bridge and in the descent to the ice, and are
leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh-
lengths. Behind both comes Baptiste. It is now
or never for the pintos. The rattle of the trail-
ing box, together with the wild yelling of the
crowd rushing down the bank, excites the bron-
chos to madness, and taking the bits in their
teeth they do their first free running that day.
Past the citizens' team like a whirlwind they
dash, clear the intervening space, and gain the
flanks of the bays. Can the bays hold them ?
Over them leans their driver, plying for the first
time the hissing lash. Only fifty yards more.
The miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving
his lines high in one hand, seizes his toque with
the other, whirls it about his head, and flings it
with a fiercer yell than ever at the bronchos.
Like the bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap
forward, and with a splendid rush cross the
scratch, winners by their own lengths.
TV/A CY/r/Vi // HU1L T A T KEHOE'S BAK. 3 I j
How The Church Was Built At Kehoe's Bar.
JOHN BENNETT.
TIIKRK were eight hundred men at Kehoe's
Bar — and such men ! — with cold, unrecking eyes,
brown, tough, creased and year-singed faces, hard
as stone through their matted beards. There were
two hundred women at Kehoe's Bar — and such
women ! Of them the least said soonest forgiven.
There was no church at Kehoe's Bar. A tall,
spare man, with deeply earnest eyes, had once
sternly denounced the sins of the Kehoites under
their very noses, and warned them of the wrath
to come, and to flee while yet there was time.
They laughed the gray-haired man to scorn, and
drove him from the town, with curses. Be-
wildered and bruised, he went away, and Kehoe's
was its straggling, \volfish self once more.
Yet here, again, " the diggin's" were in an up-
roar and dumbfounded with sheer amaze.
Another " gospel sharp " had dared to show him-
self at Kehoe's. And, what was more, and " tar-
nedly wuss," between the pines by Pursell's flap-
ped a broad white sheet, announcing, in bold
capitals, a religious service there that evening.
They all came down to see the fun. Tall and
stumpy, fat and hungry, fearless and contempt-
ous alike of God, man or devil. Across the
stumps was nailed a plank, and upon this plat-
form stood the " gospel sharp' -young, slender,
314 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
steady-eyed, his yellow hair thrown carelessly
back. There was a moment or so of anticipatory
calm. The frank blue eyes of the young mis-
sionary gauged the motley crowd. He spoke,
low but firmly :
" I have come to build a church at Kehoe's Bar. '
No minstrel premier ever more convulsed an
appreciative audience with a comic yarn. Such
screams of laughter and horse whoops of mirth !
A church at Kehoe's ! Out of it all arose a clear
tenor voice. With unflinching gaze and earnest
smile, the young minister was singing, singing
until the wild, derisive howl had died down
through sheer exhaustion and they listened again.
This was a novelty. Sweet and strong rang out
the clear voice. " Sweet By-and-By ' was a new
song to them, and a good voice a rarity in
their bacchanals ; but " sweet " and " beautiful '
were too effeminate words for the vocabulary of
Kehoe's Bar. They struck no sympathetic chord,
and the murmur of adverse intent bubbled up
anew. The singer paused a moment, irresolute,
his eyes wandering above the passion-tossed
human waves before and around him. He had
thought to speak, but words failed him now.
Stretching out his hands almost appcalingly,
he gazed out over the muddy stream, the last ra-
dience of the dying day lighting his pleading face,
and sang, with a thrill of yearning, that wondrous,
prayer-song :
77/A ( '1/L A'CY/ IW11. 1' A /' A'/://O/-'S HA A'. 3 I 5
" Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom lly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is nigh."
There was n sharp, agonized cry in the crowd — •
a struggle— a fight ? No. A herculean gold-
washer, wild and unkempt, wrenched his way
through the swaying mob, and, leaping to the
plank, almost savagely clutched the singer by
the shoulders.
" Them's the words — sine: 'em there a^'in —
o o
' while them nearer waters rolls ' — sing" 'em a^'in ! "
o o
With a startled fervor and a deeper tremor of
feeling that rung of victory, out quivered the
pleading words :
" Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll — "
"Them's it ! Stop right whar yer is, parson-
' while them nearer waters rolls!' I've got
suthin' ter say. Boys, ye all knowed Dick Nor-
cott?"
A strange, new light was in this miner's wolfish
eyes. A stir breathed assent from the crowd,
breathless, voiceless, to know what this all meant ;
for well they knew Dick Norcott — or had known
-young, quiet and strange when he came among
them, his life-hope killed by a mistake that was
not crime. Abused, browbeaten, bullied, cursed
and threatened, daily, uncomplainingly and ever
3 1 6 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
unflinchingly he had worked steadily at his claim
under the horrible stigma of cowardice ; for, with
one bitter memory ground into his soul he re-
fused to fight, and became the butt of the braw-
ling camp. "Big Tom " Reckett spoke again:
" Parson, we don't want no cantin' whang-
doodle in ourn. We ain't the kind o' ducks that
kin be skeered into heaven. When the days
comes up, it's us an' the rocks and the san' an*
the work, work, work. When the nights comes
down acrost the divide, it's us an' the dark, to
be tough an' kill time an' sleep, until the days
comes up ag'n, an' then back ter the rocks an'
the san' an' work, work, work. We kin do all
that. We has done it, year in an' year out. All
what men needs fer men, fer work, we'se got right
hyar in these arms of ours," — an' brawny mus-
cles swelled'beneath the clinging flannel — " but
it's ' when them nearer waters rolls ! '
" Parson' we called Dick Norcott coward, but
one day down thar at Two-Mile Bend, a home-
less widder's baby toddled inter the san's.
Twan't no earthly use, that baby, but Dick, out
perspectin,' hearn it cry, an' I hearn Dick yell.
When I kim on the jump, yander were Dick a-
wallerin' in the quick-san' arter the kid, the little
un so light he jus' begun to sink, but Dick knee-
deep a' ready with his weight. I kin see it yet
— how he tore the scream in' baby from the san's
an' throwed him back like a gy'nt inter the shal-
/'//A C//( 'A't 7/ HUJL T A T KEIIOVS BAR. 3 I ~
ler water an' safe bottom, when the mucky, shaky,
hungry stuff had sucked him down to the waist.
How I tried to fin' a plank, an' none in miles!
How I tried to rope him, an' the lariat were too
short ! — him, quiet an' pale like death, advisin'
an' suggestin,' an, me the only soul in hearin.'
\\\ how I screached fer help, an' then cussed an'
cried when we both knowed it were too late.
' Tom,' says he, ' drop that. I can't go over the
divide ter that tune ! ' An' him a-lookin' back
to me with the last sun acrost his face an' gal-like
hair — jes' like yourn, parson — smilin' that smile,
sweeter an' quieter as a baby on its mammy's
breas.' The san' oozed-like under his stretchin'-
out arms, an' shook and wiggled like a big coil-up
snake jes' under the water."
The strong man covered his face with his
hands and shuddered as he lived it all again.
The crowd moved, painfully silent, chewed hard,
not one would look into another's face. There-
was a suspicious dimness in Tom Reckett's
eye when his brawny hands went down.
" Then Dick's voice come gentler, like a wind
a-whisperin' : ' Tom, tell the boys that — that I
wan't afeard ! ' His voice wus ez clear ez a silver
bell, nary a shake ez two little swirls showed his
shoulders wuz under.
" 'Oh, Dick! ' an' I swore a-fallin' on my face
so'st I mightn't see the en' ; ' fergive us, Dick,
fergive us : we didn't knowed ye !
3 I 8 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
" ' Tom,' says he, deep an' calm, ' thar hain't
nothin' ter fergive. I never beared ye no grudge.
But, Tom, give every man a fair shake, an' tell
'em I wan't afeard, Tom, tell ' em I wan't afeared.
Good-bye, ole man, good-bye !'
" I looked, Parson — I sees him now, head
throwed back in the sun an' water roun' it, nary
'fraid in them boy's blue eyes o' hisn, an' him a-
smilin' up at the sky. I seed no more. I couldn't
look. But I hear him sing out all at oncet, like
an angel in heaven. Parson, I'm tough, but my
heart hurts yit ; an' them's the words what he
sung :
" ' Jesus, lover of my soul,
Lemme to Thy bosom fly,
When them nearer waters rolls.' '
The great, hoarse voice shook as it stumbled
through the lines, " When them nearer waters
rolls."
" How his voice rung thar, then so still I hearn
myself a-breathin'. I could 'a' died right thar
on the san's. When I durst see, them lyin',
shiny, laughin' waters wus splashin' along in the
sun, an' up in the hills I seem to hearn them
words a-cryin' — ' When them nearer waters rolls,
lemme to Thy bosom fly.' When the days an'
nights an' the work an' fightin' yes all, men on
Kehoe's Bar don't need no sech ; but its ' when
them nearer waters rolls'- -that's what we wants.
Boys, words what Dick Norcott could die to '11
"BOOTS," 319
do fcr men tor live to. Here's fer a church at
Kchoe's ! Parson, sing them words ag'in ! '
Into his huge sombrero chinked his sack of
dust, and, as the words rang out again in the
growing dusk, a wordless shout, a cry of all that
was good in the hearts of these men, welcoming
" words that men could die to " rose like a cheer.
Almost scrambling over one another, into the
wide hat dropped the golden offerings, until,
heavy with its load, " Big Tom ' Reckett laid it
at the singer's feet. And so the church was
built at Kehoe's Bar.
" Boots."
Used by permission.
His real name was Philip Garner, but the Bar X
Ranch knew him only as " Boots." He drifted
in at the ranch one evening in early summer.
Six or seven men were lounging in front of the
house when a sudden exclamation from the fore-
man awakened their attention.
"Boys, look a-coming, now will yer?"
Along the trail that ran across the bottom, a
lad was trudging slowly toward the ranch. He
was a very little fellow, apparently not more than
twelve years of acre. Over his shoulder he car-
J o
ried a stick, from which swung a small bundle
320 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
done up in a handkerchief — a figure truly odd
enough. But the boots he wore !
His short legs were swallowed up in a pair of
boots so huge, so grotesquely out of all propor-
tion to" his small body, that at sight of them the
men laughed outright. He came shuffling up,
dragging his limbs with an air of great weariness.
Then doffing his hat with ludicrous gravity, he
bade them a cheery " good evening." The men
removed their pipes and looked at one another
with a smile. The foreman of the ranch said :
" Well, Boots, what can I do for you ? Come in-
side and show yourself."
" My name is not Boots : it's Philip Garner,
and I come here to find work."
" Come here, sonny," said Kearney, kindly.
He raised the lad's head and gazed into his face.
Presently he turned with an odd look in his eyes
and said : " Something of a cub, eh ? '
Kearney had taken a liking to the boy. He
was added to the force. Then he told his his-
tory. An orphan at an early age, he had passed
under the care of an uncle, who had treated him
sternly and worked him like a slave. Some
months before, his uncle, in company with a
party of emigrants, had set out for Montana.
Boots was looked upon as an encumbrance,
was cuffed by his uncle and cursed by the other
men. One night, he quietly bundled up his few
belongings and set out to shift for himself.
"BOOTS." 321
The pathos of the little fellow's story, with
his modesty and simple air of candor, moved the
sympathy of the rough men. Their hearts went
out to this homeless, motherless waif. There-
was the making of a man in Boots.
Not until two years after his arrival was he
given a fair opportunity to show the stuff that
was in him. Boots and a companion were herd-
ing a bunch of horses at the horse-camp, some
twenty miles below the ranch. It was dull,
wearisome business, this herding. A vast undu-
lating prairie, barren of tree or shrub, covered
only with tawny plains-grass stretched away and
away on every side, lifeless, barren to the eye, of
an infinite dreariness.
Boots longed for a change. It came sooner
than he anticipated, and as it chanced, one night,
while his companion was away to the ranch for
supplies. Boots corralled the herd, picketed the
saddle-horse and turned in.
He slept soundly — the dreamless sleep of a
tired boy. Of a sudden toward morning, he
awoke witli a start. A pungent odor filled the
room. An odor of smoke that startled him ! A
fierce wind was blowing without. It came whis-
tling through the chinks of the logs and rattled
the loose panes of the window.
He leaped from his bed, sprang to the door
and threw it open. A wild sight met his eyes.
The prairie was on fire. He saw the flames roll-
322 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ing, leaping and dancing, not six miles away ; a
solid line of fire reaching to the sky.
A feeling of giddy sickness came over him at
the sight. He thought of his own danger, of the
helpless brutes under his charge. He was all
alone and the nearest shelter, McFarlane's ranch,
was ten miles away. Boots himself might out-
ride the fire ; but how save the herd ?
A fierce impulse to leave all, to save himself,
seized him, but he fought it down. Kearney
had befriended him, had been a father to him,
had entrusted the herd to his care. He must
stay with them. An instant later Boots was
rushing toward his saddle-horse. He caught
him, and with nervous haste threw the saddle
upon his back.
As he drew the girths he saw that the horses
in the corral were massed before the entrance,
trembling, terrified, eager to be let out. When
he drew back the gate there was a mad rush for
the opening, the crash of yielding posts, and with
a roar and a clatter they were out and past him.
Boots climbed into the saddle and followed hard
upon their heels with the shrill, "Yip! Yip!
Yip ! ' which he had learned from the cow-
boys.
The herd ran well together for a space, but
once fairly in the open, a sudden panic seized
the leaders; a knot of them broke away from the
rest and bore off to the right in >*\ hsif-drcle.
-BOOTS:- 323
For a moment, which stretched out into an eter-
nity, Boots thought he had lost control of the
herd. He grew sick at heart, for he knew that
the only chance of saving the band lay in keep-
ing it bunched.
lie spurred to the head of the detached col-
umn, galloped close to the flank of a huge white
leader and headed him sharply down the creek,
by plying the lash fiercely. The others swept
together and came on behind.
They ran wildly for a stretch, but gradually,
as the pace began to tell, their speed slackened,
until at last they settled into a long, ranging
stride that carried them over the ground won-
derfully.
Boots dropped to the rear and facing half
round in the saddle gazed furtively backward.
The fire was coming upon them at a fearful
rate.
Boots' heart sank, but he nerved himself
again to bring the herd through, cost what it
might.
Two miles, three miles, five miles without a
pause, at the same sweeping gallop. Half the
distance to McFarlane's had been covered ! At
length Boots began to feel that the pace was
telling hard. The whole herd were blowing
heavily ; the weaker animals were already show-
ing signs of distress. Boots drew reign and for a
space allowed the band to break into a trot, that
324 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
they might get their wind for the stretch still be-
fore them.
The air, meanwhile, had grown dense with
smoke. The flame was speeding, mile by mile.
Again he urged the herd into a gallop and
they went on. They were doing grandly now.
Yet try as he would to deceive himself, Boots
could not but see that it was the supreme ef-
fort.
Slowly, one by one, the feebler animals began
to weaken and to drop behind. He shouted
hoarsely to spur them on. He laid on the lash
cruelly, savagely, until his arm dropped in pain to
his side for a short rest.
But all at once, a cry of gladness came to his
lips. There, to the front, not a mile away, he
saw the outlines of a huge purple butte looming
up through the smoke. At the foot of that butte
lay McFarlane's ranch and shelter.
With fresh courage he goaded on the laggards.
They strained up the slope and topped the
crest. Again Boots glanced back. The fire was
close upon them now. A sullen, roaring sound
filled his ears, muffled, far-off, like the rush of
wind through a forest.
As Boots neared the house he looked anx-
iously for the approach of aid. Surely McFarlane
must have observed his coming. He rode up to the
house, shouting loudly. There was no response ;
McFarlane had driven his little bunch of stock
"BOOTS." 3-5
across the river to render its s.tfety doubly sure.
Boots must take his chances alone. The gra.-.-;
had been cropped fairly short in the vicinity of
the ranch. This was the only protection against
fire.
Hastily he drove the weary brutes behind the
stable and a line of sheds and crowded them
closely together. They stood there with lowered
heads, gasping for wind, their flanks sunken,
while the sweat fell drip, drip to the ground.
Then with a mighty, roaring sound and a
crackling as of a thousand muskets, the fire
swept up over the ridge and was upon them.
Nerveless, weak with terror, Boots watched it
coming- - he seemed so unsupported, so helpless,
little fellow, alone as he was. He felt himself
reeling in the saddle, but clung on grimly.
A blast that seemed to scorch and blister every
inch of skin struck him full in the face. Tum-
bling weeds all ablaze went shooting over head
like meteors and dropped in among the horses,
setting them frantic. Crazy with fear, as though
he could afford them protection, they pressed
close up to Boots. Then, for the first time in
his life, he heard a horse scream with very
terror.
He tried to speak to calm them ; but not a
word came. He was choking, suffocating with
the smoke, and every breath was attended with
intense agony.
326 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
A moment later the fire was past, he could
hear its sullen roar beyond him. He was dimly
conscious that all was over, that the herd was
safe. And then his head grew light, a giddy
faintness came over him and he felt himself
pitching forward.
They found him there beside his horse an
hour later, still grasping the rein of the bridle.
They brought water and sprinkled it over him ;
and after a while he came to and got upon his
feet.
He looked at the blackened country and at
the herd, still huddled together near the stable,
and at Kearney, and said with a little weak smile :
" I reckon they're all here, Bill."
Kearney advanced, and placing his hand be-
neath the lad's chin, stood looking into his up-
turned face with strange fire in his eyes : and
there was a thickness in his voice, as he turned
and said:
" Something of a cub, eh?"
The Prisoner's Plea.
It was an eventful day in the history of Zepata City. The
court-house had been long in coming, but at last it stood,
a proud and hideous fact, towering above the bare, brick
stores and frame-houses on the prairie around it.
It seemed especially happy and appropriate that the first
business in the new court-house should be the trial of so re-
yv//-; /Yv'Ayc^v/.A-.v ru-.A. 327
nowned an individual as Abe Harrow. Harrow had been
closely associated with the early history of Zepata and was
widely known ; he had killed in his day, several of the Zepata
citizens and two visiting brother desperados. Ten years
before, the murder of Deputy Sheriff Welch had led him to
the penitentiary, and a month previous to the opening of
the new court house he had been freed and arrested at
the prison gate to stand trial for the murder of Thompson
Hubert. The fight with Thompson had been a fair light
and Thompson was a man they could well spare, but as the
'•ase against Barrow offered a fitting sacrifice for the ded-
ication of the new temple of justice, the people were satisfied
and grateful.
THE court-house, where the trial was held, was
as bare of ornaments as the cell from which the
prisoner had just been taken. To one side sat
the jury, ranch-owners and prominent citizens,
and, near them the prisoner in his box. Col.
John Stogart of Dallas, the prisoner's attorney,
and Barrow's wife, a thin yellow-faced woman in
a mean fitting, showy gown, sat among the local
celebrities at the district attorney's elbow. She
was the only woman in the room.
Col. Stogart's speech had been good and as he
ceased speaking, the district attorney sucked in
his upper lip with a nervous impatient sigh as he
recognized that the visiting attorney had proven
murder in the second degree and that an execu-
tion on the jail-yard would not follow as a fitting
sequence. But he determined that so far as in
him lay, he would at least send his man back to
the penitentiary for the remainder of his life.
328 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Harry Harvey " The Boy Orator of Zepata
City," as he was called was very dear to the
people of that becoming town. He turned slowly
on his heels and swept the court-room with a
careless glance of his clever black eyes. The
moment was his. He saw all the men he knew,
the men who made his little world, crowding
silently forward, conscious only of him. And he
saw the face of the prisoner, grim and set and
hopelessly defiant.
" This man," he said, " is no part or parcel of
Zepata City of to-day, he comes to us as a relic
of the past. The part he played in that past,
lives only in the old court records of that day,
in the traditions of the gambling hell and the
saloons and on the head-stones of his victims.
" He was one of the excresences of that unset-
tled period, an unhappy evil an inevitable evil as
our fathers, who built this city, knew to their cost.
The same chance that was given to them, to
make a home for themselves in the wilderness, to
help others to make their homes, to assist civiliza-
tion and progress not only of this city, but of the
whole Lone Star State, was given to him, and
he refused it and blocked the way of others, and
kept back the march of progress, until to-day,
civilization, which has waxed strong and great —
not on account of him, remember, but in spite
of him — sweeps him out of its way and crushes
him and his fellows. Gentlemen, the bad man
/•///•: PRISONER'S ri.KA.
li.is become an unknown quantity in /epata City
and in the state of Texas. It lies with you to
see that lie remains so. lie is dead, and he must
not be resurrected. lie does not belong here,
he does not fit in, he is not wanted. This man
belongs to that class ; he enjoys and has enjoyed
a reputation as a bad man, a desperado and a
brutal ruffian. Free him to-day and you set a
premium on such reputation ; acquit him of this
crime and you encourage others to like evil. For
the last ten years, your honor, this man, Abncr
Barrow, has been serving a term of imprisonment
in the state penitentiary. I ask you to send him
back there again for the remainder of his life.
Abe Barrow is out of date, he has missed step
with the march of progress and has been out of
step for ten years. \Ve have advanced and
advanced in those ten years until we have reached
the very foremost place with civilized people.
This Rip Van Winkle of the past returns to find
a city where he left a prairie village, a bank
where he spun his roulette wheel, this magnificent
court-house instead of a vigilance committee.
And what is he, his part in this new court-house,
which to-day, for the first time, throws open its
doors to protect the just and punish the unjust?
"Is he there in the box with those honorable
men, the gentlemen of the jury? Is he in that
crowd of intelligent, public spirited citixens who
make the bone and sinew of this our fair city?
33° NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Is he on the honored bench dispensing justice
and making the intricacies of the law straight ?
No, gentlemen. He is there in the prisoner's
pen, an outlaw, a convicted murderer, and an
unconvicted assassin. And I ask you gentlemen,
to put him away where he will not hear the voice
of man, nor children's laughter, nor see a woman
smile, where he will not even see the face of the
warden, who feeds him, nor sunlight except as
it is filtered through the iron bars of the jail.
Bury him with the bitter past, with the lawless-
ness that has gone and which must not return.
Place him in the cell where he belongs, and
where, had justice been done he should never
have been taken alive."
The district attorney sat down suddenly and
fumbled over his papers with nervous fingers. He
was conscious of nothing until the foreman pro-
nounced the prisoner guilty of murder in the
second degree. The judge leaned across his desk
and said simply, " Before I deliver sentence on
you, Abner Barrow, is there anything you have to
say in your own behalf ? " A tall, broad-shoulder-
ed man leaned heavily forward over the bar of
the prisoner's box. His face was white with the
prison tan, and he was pinched and hollow-eyed
and worn.
" I don't know, Judge, that I have anything to
say in my own behalf. I don't know as it would
be any use, I guess what the gentleman saicl
Tin-: PRISONERS PLEA. 33i
about me is all there is to say. 1 am not going
to try any baby act and beg off or anything, ii
that's what you mean. But there is something
I'd like to say if I thought you would believe 'tis
true. I am a back member, I am out of date, 1
was a loafer and a blackguard. lie says 1 have
enjoyed a reputation as a desperado. I am not
bragging of that; I just ask you to remember
that he said it. I am not backing down. I am
taking my punishment.
" That man there told you I had no part or
parcel in the city or in this world; that I belong-
ed to the past, that I ought to be dead. Now
that's not so. I have just one thing that belongs
to this world and to this city — and to me; one
thing that I couldn't take to jail with me, and
that I'll have to leave behind me when I go back
to it. I mean my wife. You, sir, remember her
when I married her, twelve years ai/o. She crave
J r^ O
up everything a woman ought to have, to come
to me. But the first two years of her life, sir, was
a hell, and I made it a hell. I was drunk most
of the time, or sleeping it off, and ugly tempered
when I was sober. There was shooting and carry-
ing on all day and night down stairs, and she
didn't dare to leave her room. Besides that, she
cared for me, and she was afraid every minute I
was going to be killed. That's the way she lived
for two years. Respectable- women wouldn't
speak to her because she was my wife; that was
3 3 2 NE W PIE CES F OR PRIZE SPEA KING.
her life; she lived alone over the dance-hall, and
sometimes when I was drunk — I beat her.
" At the end of two years I killed Welch, and
they sent me to the penitentiary for ten years,
and she was free. It was an escape most women'd
gone down on their knees and thanked their maker
for, and blessed the day they'd been freed from
a blackguardly drunken brute. But what did
this woman do — my wife, the woman I misused
and beat and dragged down in the mud with me?
She sold out the place and bought a ranch with
the money, and worked it by herself, worked it
day and night, until in ten years she had made
herself an old woman as you see she is to-day.
" And for what ? To set me free again. To
bring me things to eat in jail, to hire a lawyer to
fight for me, — to hire the best lawyer. And what
I want to ask of you, sir, is to let me have two
years out of jail, to show her how I feel about it.
I ask you not to send me back for life, sir. Give
me two years — two years of my life while I have
some strength left to work for her as she worked
for me. I only want to show her how I feel now.
It's all I've thought of when I was in jail, to be
able to see her sitting in her own kitchen with
her hands folded, and me working and sweating
in the fields for her, working till every bone ached,
trying to make it up to her. And now I can't !
I can't! It's too late! It's too late! I'm not
crying for the men I killed. They're dead ; I
yy/A y'AV.voAViA"^ y'ZA//. 333
can't bring them back. Hut she's not dead and
I treated her WOfSC than I treated them. And
now when I want to do what I can in the little
time that's left, he tells me I'm a relic of the past,
th.it civilization is too good. Just when I've got
.-oinething I must live for, something I've got to
do. Don't you believe me? Don't you under-
stand ?
" Don't send me back for life. Give me a few
years to work for her- -two years, one year, — to
show her what I feel here, what I've never felt
for her before. Look at her ! gentlemen. See
how worn she is and poorly, and look at her hands,
and you must feel what I feel. I don't ask you
for myself. I don't want to go free on my own
account. I'm asking it for that woman. Send
me back for thirty years, but not for life. My
God, Judge, don't bury me alive as that man ask-
ed you to.
" I'm not civilized, maybe, ways have changed.
You're not the men I knew; you're all strangers to
me. But I could learn. I would not bother you
in the old way. I only want to live with her. I
wont harm the rest of you. Give me this last
chance. Let me prove that what I'm saying is
»»
true.
The man stopped and stood opening and shut-
ting his hands on the rail. The gentlemen of the
jury sat quite motionless. For a moment no one
moved until there was a sudden stir around the
334 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
district attorney's table and the men stepped
aside and let the woman pass there and throw her-
self against the prisoner's box. The prisoner bent
his tall gaunt figure over the rail, and passed his
hand against her face, and touched "her shoulder
with the other awkwardly.
" There now," he whispered, soothingly, "don't
you take on so, now you know how I feel, it's all
right, don't take on."
Judge Teuax looked at the paper on his desk
for some seconds and raised his head. " It lies —
it lies at the discretion of this court to sentence
the prisoner to a term of imprisonment ot two
years, or for an indefinite period, or for life.
Owing to — on account of certain circumstances
which were — have arisen — this sentence is sus-
pended. This court stands adjourned."
The Equinoctial Storm.
From " Caleb West, Master Diver," by F. Hopkinson
Smith, by special permission of the author and his publishers,
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Copyright 1897, by F. HOPKINSON
SMITH.
TONY MARVIN, the keeper of the Keyport
Light, was in his little room next the fog-horn,
when Sanford and the skipper, wet and glistening
as two seals, knocked at the outer door of his
quarters.
77/A J-.^r I \OCTIAL STORM. 33$
"Well, I want to know ! " broke out Toil}- in
his bluff, hearty way, as he opened the door.
"Come in, -come in! Nice weather for ducks
ain't it ? Sunthin' 's up, or you fellers wouldn't
be out to-day. Anybody drownded?'
" Not yet, Tony," said Sanford in a serious
tone. " But I'm worried about Captain Joe and
Caleb. Did you see them go by ? They're in
Captain Pott's Dolly Yarden."
" Gosh hang, no ! Ve ain't never tellin' me,
be ye, that the cap'n 's 's to the Ledge in all this
smother? And that fool Caleb with him, too ? '
" Yes, and Lonny Bowles," interrupted the
skipper.
"How long since they started?' asked the
keeper anxiously, taking down his spyglass from
a rack above the buckets.
" Half an hour ago."
"Then they're this side of Crotch Island yit,
if they're anywheres. Let's go up to the lantern.
Mebbe we can see 'em," he said, unlatching the
door of the tower. " I ain't surprised o'nothin'
in Caleb, but Cap'n Joe ought'er have more
sense. What's he goin' for, anyhow, to-day?'
he grumbled.
" He's taken the new pump with him," said
Sanford, as he followed the keeper up the wind-
ing steps, the skipper close behind. " They
broke the old pump on Saturday, and everything
is stopped on the Ledge. Captain knows we're
33^ NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
behind, and he doesn't want to lose an hour.
But it was a foolish venture. He had no business
to risk his life, in a blow like this, Tony."
" What good is the pump to him, if he does get
it there ? Men can't work to-day," Tony an-
swered.
" Oh, that ain't a-goin to stop us ! " shouted
the skipper from below, resting a moment to get
his breath as he spoke. " We've got the masonry
clean out o' water ; we're all right if Cap'n Joe
can git steam on the hoister."
Once upon the iron floor of the deck, the roar
of the wind and the dash of the rain, which had
been deadened by the thick walls of the structure
surrounding the staircase below, burst upon
them seemingly with increased fury. A tremu-
lous, swaying motion was plainly felt. Above
the roar of the storm could be heard, at intervals,
the thunder of the surf breaking on Crotch
Island Beach.
" Gosh A'mighty ! ' exclaimed the keeper,
adjusting his glass. " It's a-humpin' things, and
no mistake. See them rollers break on Crotch
Island," and he swept his glass around. " I see
'em. There they are, — three o' them. There's
Cap'n Joe, — ain't no mistakin' him. He's got his
cap on, same's he allers wears. And there's
Caleb ; his beard's a-flyin' straight out. Who's
that in the red flannel shirt? '
" Lonny Bowles," said the skipper.
Till-: J-^i'J.\OC J'lAL STORM. 337
"Yes, that's Howies. lie's a-hailin' for all lie's
worth. Cap'n Joe's L;<>I the tiller and Caleb's
a-h. infill' on the sheet. Here, Mr. Sanford,"
and he held out the glass, " Ye kin see 'em
plain 's day."
Sanford waved the glass away. He himself
could see the Dolly, a mile or more this side of
Crotch Island Point, and nearly two miles away
from where the three watchers stood. She was
lui'rLrin
here. I can't get on without you. Besides,
you're tuo heavy. It needs a youngster, light
ami wiry, u good rider,- He stopped short,
346 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
His eyes met Kane's with sudden suggestiveness.
" Good Lord ! ' he muttered, " If I only dared
I'd send Gordon ! '
Kane drew his breath sharply. " Try it ! try
it! for God's sake! He's cut out for it. He
rides like an Indian. If he lives, it's his profess-
ional salvation ; if he dies, he will die a soldier's
death — a far better thing for him than life,
shadowed as his must henceforth be."
Gordon had come into the regiment under ex-
ceptionally pleasant circumstances. From the day
he had reported, the colonel's interest in the lad
amounted to a passion ; and the boy seemed quite
worthy of it. Merry, generous and honorable,
there had been nothing to prepare his comrades
for the inexplicable occurrence that had closed
his brief career.
He had taken command of a detachment on
the morning of their encounter with the enemy.
Half an hour later, he had been found, white
and helpless, beside the bodies of some dead sol-
diers, his men waiting vainly, and in conster-
nation, for the orders which should have led them
forward. That evening, Kane had been sent
down to demand the boy's sword.
Brace broke the silence jerkily. 4< Think of
his mother! think of his mother! He's all she's
got r
" The woman's a soldier's daughter," said
Kane ; " She would be the last to bid him stay.
GORDON'S KI-: THIEVE. 347
And even if it were not so — for the Lord's sake,
George, don't let such a consideration as that
stand in the boy's way! Think of him! Think
of his future, ridiculed by the men, despised by
his comrades, branded as a coward before the
world ! Give him a chance to wipe out this
awful stain — with his blood if necessary. If he
refuses to take it, he will meet his deserts, and go
down like the cur that he will have proved him-
self to be. If he succeeds, no one can breathe
a word against him ; the past will be forgiven and
forgotten, and he will return an honorable man."
The colonel drew a long breath.
" What horse can he take?'
" My own — the Rajah ; Gordon has raced him
often. If you have no further orders, I had
better go."
The tent which Kane sought stood at the end
of the line, slightly apart from the rest. Its oc-
cupant sprang up as the adjutant entered.
" Sit clown, Dick. We have important news
this afternoon. It will take some time to explain
matters," and placing the lantern so that its light
fell upon the lad's face, Kane seated himself, and
began feeling his way carefully toward the cli-
max of the situation. He ended by saying :
" It will take a youngster, light and wiry, one
who knows the country well, a good rider."
The young man's face had whitened.
A youngster," he repeated mechanically ; "a
"
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
good rider ! I'm that- Then he shrank back
trembling. " Ah, why have you come here?'
Why, in God's name have you come here to tell
me this?"
Kane's figure rose suddenly to its full height.
Reaching out he caught the lad by the collar
and jerked him violently.
" You contemptible cur ! You contemptible,
cowardly cur ! You must go! Do you hear?
You must ! '
" I go ? You have come here to tell me I
may go? I- -I — am to be trusted on such an er-
rand as this ? Oh, don't trifle with me ! I don't
deserve much but I can't stand that ! ' and fall-
ing on his knees, he burst into tears.
For a moment Kane stood there silent ; then
he laid his hand gently on the bowed head. " God
bless you ! ' and raising the canvas, softly step-
ped outside.
From Gordon's tent, the adjutant went to the
corporal to give the orders for his horse. The
next two hours were spent in final consultation
with the colonel. It was nearly eleven before he
found himself once more before Gordon's tent.
Kane waited till the boy had .collected the last
things, then the two made their way to the com-
mander's cabin. The boy's voice trembled as he
spoke.
" I want first, sir, to thank you for your good-
ness in giving me this chance. It's more than I
GORDON'S REPRUU'E. 349
(.'X pec ted. I've wanted to explain to you ever
since the day of the fight but I was afraid you
mightn't believe it ; but no\v--no\v, when I'm
going away and I may be talking to you for the
last time, you'll believe me, and think the best
you can of me I'm sure." Then sitting down on
the edge of the camp-bed, he told them simply
and briefly the story of his downfall.
Physical inability to bear the sight of blood,
had from boyhood afflicted him, but the possibil-
ity of its interfering with the performance of his
duty never occurred to him until the moment of
that first awful test on the battlefield. The siirht
O
had caused him no consciousness of fear, only
an agonizing weakness, that caused all power of
action to desert him.
As he finished, a horse's hoofs clicked on the
path outside. " There's my horse, colonel," he
said.
" There are your despatches ; I give you no
orders, only get them through. God keep you."
As the horse trotted away, the lad drew a deep
breath and patted the Rajah's neck. " Bravo,
old boy ! We've done it often for fun. We'll
do it now in earnest ! '
So fifteen miles were made before three o'clock.
The darkness grew less dense. Gordon could
already in fancy distinguish the fort, and between
it and him lay the camps of the hostile Indians.
He dismounted and tightened the girths; " Now,
35° NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
old boy. ' A moment later, horse and rider were
speeding across the prairie.
Half a dozen dusky figures stole from the brush
by the river-bank and settled like hounds on their
trail.
Ahead, outlined against the sky, lay the fort.
Gordon bent, gripping the reins close to the
horse's neck. The hoof beats were growing
louder. The pace was tremendous. Gordon
looked back — as he did so, the foremost Indian
raised his gun and a bullet humming under Gor-
don's elbow, plowed itself raggedly along the
Rajah's neck. The wound was superficial, and
Gordon remained for the moment ignorant of
what had happened. Suddenly he looked down.
A shrinking horror overspread his face. He
fought bravely, trying to fix his attention on the
path ahead. It was useless. His gaze returned
to the wound and the sheet of blood soaked the
horse's side.
He shut his teeth hard. Here on the threshold
of his triumph, the old demon had him in its
clutches. He forced himself to realize all that
his failure must mean. Dimly, as through a
maze, he heard ; " I give you no orders, only get
them through."
The road grew black before him. With a last
effort he leaned forward and wound his arms
about the horse's neck. There was blood, blood
everywhere. He smelled its sickening odor in
GORDON'S A'A V'A'/A / 7 . 3 5 I
tlu-sti-am that came from the horse's hide; his
^l«»vcs became saturated with it. His jaws shut
convulsively.
The horse's stride slackened. The Indians see-
ing it, hailed the lessening distance to their prey
with yells which pierced more and more loudly
through Gordon's flagging consciousness.
Slowly, feebly, with the perspiration dripping
from his forehead, he raised himself in his saddle
to drive the spurs into the Rajah's sides. The Ra-
jah answered with a final burst of speed; foam drip-
ped from his jaws; he was running with pounding
jerks. It was plain he could not bear his burden
farther.
The road made a sudden bend and stretched
to the gates of the fort. A little to the right
stood a clump of bushes. In the days of their
steeple-chasing it had marked the beginning of
their home stretch, and at sight of it, like an
inspiration the memory of the Rajah's habits
flashed into Gordon's mind. As he dashed around
the curve, the boy took out his despatch case and
fastened it to the rintr of the saddle. Then he
o
glanced over his shoulder; he was for the moment
hidden from his pursuers' view, and coming
abreast of the bushes, he gave the Rajah a vicious
cut with the reins and flung himself from the
saddle.
The horse dashed forward toward the gate
which led to his old stable in the corral. Gordon
crawled into the thicket and waited.
352 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
Suddenly his pursuers scattered to the right
and left. The gates of the stockade had opened
and a squad of cavalry came through them. Gor-
don saw the troopers gather around the black
horse; presently a soldier led him into the fort
and the others came forward toward the boy's
hiding place. He sprang to his feet and rushed
out upon the road.
" Saved," he cried, tears of excitement stream-
ing down his face. " Dear God, saved and free !
Saved ! Saved ! "
The Hero of the Day.
Used by permission.
" It is too bad," said Mr. Robert Carter.
" Such hard luck — to be hurt in the very last
rush of the very last day ! But I should be
very sorry if Frank, from fear of a temporary
lameness or even of a few broken bones, should
refuse to play."
" Robert," said Mrs. Carter, " the careless way
in which you talk of your son's welfare makes
me positively indignant ! Do you think it's
worth while that his whole body and health, per-
haps, should be sacrificed for one stupid game?
I hope that Frank won't play, and I shall not be
THE HERO OF THE DAY. 353
easy till I see somebody else in his place at
Springfield."
44 You overrate the danger. I don't think it is
anything compared with the lessons in manliness
and braver\- and strength Frank will learn if he
faces it. I want to see Frank be a man, and I'll
never be so proud of him as when he goes into
that game, as I hope he will, forgetting about
himself, thinking only of his duty to the college,
determined to beat those Yale men, even if he
has to lose a leg to do it."
Mrs. Carter shook her head. " I think it's very
foolish. It seems to me that other and less dan-
gerous things than football can make a man
manly."
It would undoubtedly be a severe loss to Har-
vard if Frank Carter should be unable to play.
He was only a freshman, but ever since the first
day of practice, when he dodged past half of the
first eleven and scored a touchdown, and when
he made, as the coach said, two of the prettiest
tackles ever seen on the field, he had been as sure
of a place on the team as Captain Dawson himself.
lie had been put in to play right tackle, but
he was used for every purpose. He was one of
the best ground-gainers and one of the interfer-
ers; and his own hard work somehow enthused
life and enen'A' into the work of others.
o ^
Not only was Frank Carter himself such a
valuable man, but he was even, by contrast with
354 ME W PIE CES F OR PRIZE SPEA KING.
the man who must take his place in case anything
happened to him. Dennison, his substitute, was
the poorest of the substitutes that the team car-
ried.
So when the paper came out the morning
before the Harvard-Yale game with the start-
ling head, " Harvard's Hopes Shattered: Carter
Wrenches His Knee," it was not so very wrong.
And it was natural that Mr. and Mrs. Carter, on
reading these headlines and the article following,
should have been much excited; though for differ-
ent reasons, for Mr. Carter was both a Harvard
man and a believer in football while Mrs. Carter
was the boy's mother, and thought more of his
safety than she did of his fame as a player or the
athletic credit of his university.
On the morning of the day of the game the
three coaches and the doctor took Frank up-stairs
and examined him. Then they sent him down
again to read with the rest of the men, while
they examined and discussed his case.
The doctor and two of the coaches were oppos-
ed to his playing. They thought that his knee
was too stiff and sore. The third coach, Burney,
held a different opinion.
" Somehow I haven't faith in that man Denni-
son," said Burney. " He's unreliable. I have
always doubted whether he was real sand. He's
not a heady man; and lame or not, Carter can be
relied upon to use his head. And then Denni-
THE HERO OF THE DAY. 355
son's liable to lose his temper as well as his head.
C arter seems to want to phi)', and I'm strongly
in favor of letting him."
But the others overruled these ideas, only acced-
ing so far as to say that if Dennison proved weak
Carter should be given a chance.
"All right," said Burney. "I'm the minority,
but I think we'll use Carter before the day is
out."
The referee spun a coin into the air. When it
fell the two captains bent over and scrutinized it.
The blue flags that rose like flowers from the
sloping bed of human beings on one side of the
field and the crimson flags that rose like flowers
on the other side stopped waving, and the human
beings became suddenly silent.
" Ours ! " cried Captain Dawson, running up to
his men. Then he clapped his hands and shout-
ed, " Out into the middle of the field everybody ! '
"Harvard's ball!' chorused the Harvard sup-
porters joyfully. " Rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah,
rah, rah, rah, Harvard ! '
In reply came Yale's snappy cheer: " Rah, rah,
rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, Yale! '
And then the game began. Dennison proved
to be the weak point in the Harvard line, but the
quarter-back bolstered him up, so that Yale did
not gain much through him. Finally, Davis, the
Harvard full-back, made a brilliant run and scored
a touchdown, from which he afterward kicked
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
the goal. Thus at the end of the first half the
score stood six to nothing in Harvard's favor.
After fifteen minutes of buzzing intermission,
the teams reappeared. It was Yale's ball this
time, and Yale started off with a rush.
" One, ninety-two, one hundred and thirteen,"
shouted the Yale quarter-back, and almost the
whole eleven flung itself against Dennison and
opened up a gap for the runner. " Eight, twenty-
four, ninety-nine," shouted the quarter-back
quickly, and again the Yale line plunged at that
weak spot, and again they gained three or four
yards. By a succession of these plays, Yale drove
the ball steadily down the field.
" I wish Frank were in there now," said Mr.
Carter to his wife. " That fellow's quite losing
his head. It's lucky the umpire didn't see that,"
he muttered as he saw Dennison strike the man
opposite him squarely on the cheek.
This was an unfortunate act on Dennison's
part, looked at merely from the point of view of
policy, for on the next rush, the Yale tackle,
whose blood was now circulating pretty freely,
smashed into Dennison and threw him with the
utmost violence on the ground; and Yale made
five yards, and was now within fifteen yards of
Harvard's goal. Just as the Yale quarter-back
was again shouting out the signal, the Yale tackle
gave Dennison an insulting little shove. Denni-
son, furious, struck his opponent heavily, first
TV//-/ 1U-.KO OF 1 HI'. DAY. 357
with his right fist then with his left. At the
same time ;i whirlwind of Vale men bore down
on him, tossed him to the ground, and dashed
past. There came a mighty shout from Yale
se.its. Yale had scored.
Dennison, confused and ashamed, rose to his
feet. The umpire ran up.
" You are disqualified," said he sternly. " Dis-
qualified for slugging. Leave the field."
As Dennison, utterly humiliated, knowing
that he had forever disgraced himself, walked to
the Harvard side, a cheer of approval and tri-
umph came from the Yale seats. This was
hushed when the Yale full-back tried to kick the
goal. The try failed by ten feet. Harvard
still led, six to four.
Then Captain Dawson came running over to
the row of substitutes and held a moment's con-
sultation with the coach.
" Carter ! ' he called in a sharp voice. " Car-
ter !"
" Frank's going to play ! ' said Mr. Carter to
his wife in great excitement.
" Oh no ! " she exclaimed in distress, as she
saw Frank start up and limp out on the field.
" lie mustn't, he mustn't !' She was trembling
and pale. " Sit still," said Mr. Carter quietly.
" Just hear them cheering him ! Isn't it splen-
did ? I tell you Mary, this is really fine, fine !
Frank, my boy, you're all right ; just ten times
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
as cool as I am ! ' Frank rose and limped to his
place, and Mr. and Mrs. Carter breathed easier.
Down in the field Frank was working with a
kind of mechanical coolness — not thinking of his
leg at all. He went through every play with a
naturalness and quickness that surprised himself.
He watched the man opposite closely ; not once
did he seem to raise his eyes to look at big Dun-
ning, the guard, who was breathing so heavily
beside him.
" Five, thirty-five, five ' sang the Harvard
quarter-back.
Frank dropped back of the line. The ball was
passed to him ; he caught it and dashed off at his
old-time speed ; his lameness was scarcely per-
ceptible. Plunging through the hole in the cen-
tre which Dunning opened up, he tore on, head
down, not knowing where he was going, except
that it was toward the Yale goal. Suddenly he
felt arms about his hips and he was thrown
heavily forward.
He lay on the ground for sometime. After
the doctor had bathed his leg and bandaged it
again, he was able to get up and go on play-
ing.
But he began to feel his hurt in every play,
and almost every play left him lying prostrate a
little longer than the rest. Up in the grand
stand, Mrs. Carter was rapidly growing sick at
the sight. Everybody else was cheering and
Till-: iii:KO ui- /•///•; J>AY. 359
yelling tremendously. It was the finest ex-
hibition of pluck they had ever seen.
The minutes wore away. It looked as if the
score would stand, Harvard, six ; Yale, four — un-
less Carter were absolutely laid out. For in
spite of his repeated hurts, Yale could gain no
more through him now than at the beginning.
He made up for greater weakness by greater des-
peration. At last there were but three minutes
more to play. Yale had the ball, but far down
in her own territory. Twice her backs flung
themselves in a nobly heedless way into the
Harvard line, but the Harvard line held.
Then the light-haired half-back whom Yale
had not used for sometime was given the ball,
and started round the right end. Henderson,
the Harvard end, ran out to intercept him, but
was blocked off by the interferers. On and on
swept the little half-back ; alone now, for his in-
terferers had gradually been shaken off. Only
Davis remained between him and a touchdown.
Davis rushed forward ; the half-back hesitated a
moment then swerved suddenly to the left, close
to the boundary line and was past.
But the little runner was not yet safe ; one
man from the Harvard team was pressing after
him, bearing down upon him. It was Frank,
running fleetly and surely. He had gained a
priceless advantage in that moment when the
half-back had been headed off and had slackened
his pace; steadily he was overhauling him.
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
But now the Yale man had only ten yards to
go. Then Frank bent his head and clutching
his breath, and clenching his teeth, tightening
all his muscles, dived forward with wild desper-
ation, reaching with his hands. They slipped,
and while he was still in air he tightened them
again frantically — and then the Yale man and
the Harvard man lay together on the ground.
This time Frank did not rise. Nor was he the
only one who had fainted ; in one of the central
sections on the Harvard side, where all were stand-
ing, shouting in hoarse triumph, a woman was
unconscious in her husband's arms.
The Wooing of Miss Woppit.
EUGENE FIELD.
Copyrighted, 1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Abridged
by special permission.
JlM WOPPIT would never have been elected
city marshal of Red Hoss Mountain but for the
potent circumstance that several of the most in-
fluential gentlemen in the camp were in love
with Jim's sister ; that was Jim's hold on these
influences, and that was why he was elected. As
handsome and as gentle a lady was Miss Woppit
as ever walked a white pine floor. She lived
with her brother Jim in the cabin on the side
hill, just off the main road. She was so pretty
7V//-: n\h)j.\'G OF J/AV.S- WOPPIT. 361
so modest, so diligent, so home-keeping, and so
shy, \vhat wonder tliat these lonely, heart-hungry
men should fall in love with her? No, we all re-
spected Hoover and Dodsley and Barber Sam
for being stuck on the girl ; you'd have respected
them, too, if you'd seen her and them.
It was lucky that we organized a city govern-
ment when we did. The tidal wave of crime
struck us three days after election. All our
cro\vd was in at Casey's, soon after nightfall, in-
dulging in harmless pleasantries when all of a
sudden, sharp, exacting, and staccato-like, the
telephone sounded. By the merest chance, Jim
\Voppit happened to be close by, and he reached
for the telephone and answered the summons.
" Yes. Where ? You bet — right away."
Jim was visibly excited ; he let go the tel-
ephone, and turning around he said : " By jingo,
boys, the stage has been robbed ! ' A robbery !
The first in the Red Hoss Mountain country !
Every man leaped to his feet and broke for the
door, his right hand thrust instinctively back
toward his hip pocket. Hank Eaves' broncho
was tied in front of Casey's. Jim threw him-
self astride the spunky little brute and was off in
a flash. " Come on, boys," he called back to us ;
" come on as fast ez you kin to the glen."
It appeared from the story of Steve Barclay,
the stage driver, that along about eight o'clock
as the stage approached the glen — a darkish,
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
dismal spot — the figure of a man stole suddenly
from the thicket by the roadside, stood directly
in front of the leading horses and commanded a
halt. Then the men in the coach were compelled
to disgorge their valuables, something like $2,000.
Having possessed himself in an incredibly short
time of his booty, the highwayman quickly
backed into the thicket and went off. As for Jim
Woppit, he never once lost his head. When the
rest of us came up to the scene of the robbery he
had formed a plan of pursuit. Ten of us should
go with him to Eagle Pass upon the staunchest
bronchos the camp could supply. A brave man
and a cool man ; good-hearted, too, for in the midst
of all the excitement he thought of his sister,
and he said almost tenderly to Three-Fingered
Hoover, " I can trust you, pardner, I know. Go
up to the cabin arid tell her it's all right — that I'll
be back to-morrow and she must not be skeered.
And if she is skeered you kind of hang round
thar to-night and act as if you knew everything
was all O. K."
Jim Woppit and his men had a hard ride of it.
They scoured the surrounding country with the
utmost diligence, yet no trace whatever did they
discover of the outlaws. The crime, so boldly
and so successfully done, was, of course, the one
theme of talk, of theory, and of speculation for
the conventional period of nine days.
In the early part of February there was another
Tin-: U'oo/xc, OF MISS WOPP1T.
robbery. But the robber and his pals escaped as
befoiv. 1 ) -tectives came from Denver and
snooped around. Everybody bought extra guns
aiul laid in a further supply of ammunition. But
the stage robbers — bless you, nobody could find
hide nor hair of 'em.
The wooing of Miss Woppit pursued the even
tenor of its curious triple \vay. Jake Dodsley
wrote her poetry, Three-Fingered Hoover dis-
coursed deftly upon the fiddle, and Barber Sam,
who was another musical genius, performed out-
side the cabin windows on his guitar.
And now again it was spring. Sir Charles
Lackington, president of the Royal Victoria
mine, was due at the camp. It was announced
that he would beat the camp by Tuesday's stage.
That stage was robbed by the mysterious outlaw
and his gang; but Sir Charles happened not to
be among the passengers. He came by private
wagon in the morning; his daughter was with
him. Mary Lackington was perhaps in some-
particulars mature beyond her years. Fair and
innocent, this womanly maiden came into the
comedy of that mountain wooing. Mary was
not long in discovering that Three-Fingered Hoo-
ver had a little romance. How the big, awkward
fellow ever got through with it I cannot imagine,
but tell her he did — yes, he fairly unbosomed
his secret.
" And now, Mi"/'/A'A's.\'G ur OF BILLY }\'ii.i.iAMs. 375
pipe. 1 am not fit to wear a hat where genth:-
incn arc, and I oughtn't to smoke. While he
\\as calling me all those names, I couldn't resent
it, because 1 kne\v all of a sudden, just ho\v I
looked to him and to you. Kven what he said
about the little girl ' -and Billy Williams waited
for strength to proceed- -" was true. I couldn't
have helped it when the time came. She died
because- because — her father -- drank." The
"last word was whispered with an awful emphasis.
Something had touched deeply the sluggish
heart, and awakened again to life a manhood
that had fallen asleep long years before. The
scene was e\-en more than Bud Jenkins could
endure.
" Oh, well, Billy, I oughtn't- ' he began.
But instantly the moving features froze to
iron. "Hold!" cried Billy. "Hold, sir!
You're a coward, and I knew it would drop out
at last. It isn't because you told me that — oh,
no. Besides that was too true to fight about.
But over my little baby for two weeks some of
the kindest women God ever breathed upon —
women of this town — hung day and night, doing
their best for her. They and some good men,
my neighbors, stood by us at the grave. You,
sir, have lied about these people, and I have
received too much at their hands not to resent it."
The men stood face to face, Billy trembling
with excitement, Bud white with rage and
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
ishment, and around them were nearly all the
men in Gordon. At this moment, but unnoticed
by either principal, the major, reading hastily
the intention of the bully, broke through the
ring. Half doubting the evidences of his senses,
Bud slapped viciously with his left hand at his
antagonist's face — and missed him ; for, lower-
ing his head slightly, Billy avoided the clumsy
blow; then, with immense energy and quickness,
he rushed under his enemy's outstretched arm,
clasped him around the thighs, lifted him clear
of the ground, and threw him heavily backward.
It was an old college trick, but what followed
was' not. It was all backwoods — born of the
Nick Williams blood, possibly. In an instant he
was upon the astonished bully, a wild-cat in
fury, beating his writhing features. It was a
fearful punishment, but it was the only argument
for a brute. Extending their arms right and
left, the crowd circled round the stru££lincr
oo o
forms (cheering on the smaller man, and howling
over the amazing scene). Suddenly the voice
of Bud Jenkins was heard imploring mercy, and
appealing to the bystanders to " take him off."
"Take it back!" cried Billy. "Take it back,
you coward ! '
" I take it back ! ' moaned the vanquished
brute.
The spectators cheered, and Major Crawford
split the air with a Comanche yell.
/•///•; .S7/AA7//- '.V HONOR,
" Say you lied ! " he shouted.
" Lied." The fatal words, the abdical in^
formula of a defeated bully, came faintly back.
The frantic crowd cheered a^ain, and danced,
and hmr"ed one another promiscuously. lUid
v> *> A J
Jenkins, moaning and bending nearly to the
j \ j
ground, his hands clasping his lacerated face, was
steered by a friendly ne^ro to the town pump.
Hilly Williams picked up his hat and rising,
found everybody's risjdit hand extended to him,
while old comrades enthusiastically invited him
to celebrate his astonishing victory in a flowing
bowl. To their great ama/ement, however,
Hilly drew himself up to his full height and said
"I thank you all, my friends, but I have resolved
not to drink any more ' -and he kept his word.
The Sheriff's Honor,
HAKKII.T ULACK.STONK.
Above, a darkening dome.
To the south, Bald Mountain, its jagged sides swept by
occasional fierce gusts of wind. The straggling cabins of
the miners show here and there a faint glimmer of light, for
with the coming storm, night is si-tiling early.
1 )o\vn on Main Street — dignified by the Post Office, the
bank, the stores and the jail, but otherwise given over to
saloons — a. crowd of men has gathered. The center of
attraction is a straight, solidly built man of thirty— Pete
Iliggins — the sheriff of liald Mountain Camp. As he stands
NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
there, alert, bright-eyed, determined — he presents a striking
contrast to the surly men around him.
The topic of conversation is the arrest that morning of a
noted outlaw and horse-thief, Lem Perkins. The sheriff,
riding alone, had surprised the outlaw, and captured him
single-handed — a feat in which every man in Bald Mountain
Camp should have felt a degree of pride. But more than
one had a personal grudge to settle with Lem Perkins, and
even now it was rumored that Big Jeff Freed, who had gal-
loped out of the camp in the early afternoon, was inciting
the boys of Eagle Ridge to summary action.
"THEY ain't no Jury that'll hang him," said
Bill Tovvne doggedly.
" Wall, I've said all I kin say," said the
sheriff. " Ye ain't talkin' like men. Circuit
Court convenes in a little more'n a week, an'
we'll find out then — yer in too big a hurry to
take the law inter yer own hands."
" Mebby we be, an' mebby we ain't," said
another; " we know you — you'd be sneakin' him
off to a safe place. I tell ye, Pete Higgins, ye
better listen to reason on this deal. We stood by
ye in the 'lection, an* we like ye — yes, an' we like
yer gal wife too — but yer can't run things too
high, an' we've told yer fair 'n square what we'll
do if yer don't hand over Lem Perkins ! '
" I reckon," said Pete slowly, " that ye think
yer right, boys, but it's my business to take keer
o' Lem Perkins, an'- -I'll do it — the best I kin."
With which declaration, he turned on his heel
and walked off toward the jail.
THE SHERIFF'S HONOR.
379
He swung leisurely along until the shadows
of the falling night shielded him, then he quick-
ened his pace. As he opened the door of the
little living room adjoining the jail, a young
woman who was preparing the evening meal
came toward him. " What is it, Pete? What has
happened ?" she asked, putting her hands on his
arms. " Something's wrong — tell me." " Bird,
said the sheriff, " they're plannin' ter lynch Lem
Perkins. I've got ter git him out o' this ter
night. I dunno what ter do with you an' the
baby — mebby Donnelly's wife '11 take ye some-
whar."
Donnelly, the jailer, entered at that moment.
He was a big raw-boned fellow, as brave as a
lion and as true as steel.
Pete wasted no words but told his suspicions.
" Get Perkins ready at once," said he, " fer they
ain't no time to waste. If the mob gits here an'
finds us gone, they'll make after us, sure as guns..
Where's your wife, Donnelly? ' " She's over ter
sister's — safe — thank God ! ' said the jailer.
"Send Bird ami the leetle un right there; she'll
take care on 'em."
The jailer left the room, and Pete, lifting the
sleeping baby from its cradle, kissed it and laid it
in the mother's arms. " Go there, Bird," he said.
" Good-bye. I've loved ye, girl — don't worry. —
If them devils don't ketch us, I'll come back to
ye to-morrer," I le kissed her, and she went as
380 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
she was bidden, but she came back in a moment.
" Pete," she whispered, closing the door quickly
behind her, "there are men all about the jail.
They sent me back. ' No one can leave the
jail this night/ they said." The sheriff had been
buckling on his revolvers. " They have beaten
us!' He sprang and barricaded the door.
"They won't come in here, Bird. It will be at
the jail entrance, but git out o' sight." Then
he went into the hallway and warned Don-
nelly, who was leading Perkins, securely bound.
"I don't understand," said Higgins. "I just
left the boys in front o' Billings' saloon." " Big
Jeff's got back from the Ridge with the gang-
I bet ye," said Donnelly quietly. "And he's
posted the guards while he plans the attack. I
was s'picious o' that cuss when he went off to-
day, but there warn't no use tryin' to sneak Per-
kins off in sun-up."
A flash of lightning was followed by a crash of
thunder that shook the jail. Higgins, standing
at the barred front window of the corridor, saw in
the instant a little group of excited men on the
opposite side of the street. In the lull that fol-
lowed the crash he heard further away a roaring,
as of many voices, and the tramp of feet.
" My wife ! " he cried aloud, " what is to be
done with her? How can I save her?' Then
he felt a touch on his arm and saw that she stood
beside him. " I wouldn't care for myself, Pete,
Only the baby-
THE SHERIFF'S HONOR. 381
"I know," he said. "What can 1 do with
them, Donnelly?' he asked of the jailer.
" I'd say down cellar, Pete, if I weren't 'feared
they'd set the place a-fire. I dunno but she kin
git out o' the kitchen 'n scoot when they make
their rush."
" It will be guarded," groaned Pete. " Every
loophole '11 be watched. But go into the kitchen,
Bird, and .do the best ye kin. Keep out er sight.
Here, take this." He handed her a pistol. " I
don't believe they'll hurt you with the baby in
yer arms, but they'll be crazy with drink and
ye can't tell."
Donnelly, standing by the door, raised his rifle.
" They're a-comin'. Go up on the second
floor, Pete, an' talk to 'em through the winder."
As the sheriff opened the door of the upper cor-
ridor, the prisoners began to call out to him. The
approaching mob could be heard distinctly now.
" For God's sake, let us out of this," called one.
" Give us guns," called another. " Don't leave us
to be shot ! ' Unspeakable terror was upon them.
Iliggins strode on without turning his head.
" I'll do the best I kin," he made answer. Be-
low, outside, was a surging sea of heads. The
rain beat furiously down upon them, and a flash of
lightning revealed that they were rudely masked.
It revealed to them the sheriff, as he stood be-
hind the barred window, looking down upon
them,
382 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
The leader (Pete knew him by his huge figure.
It was Big Jeff Freed) called out to him : " Pete
Higgins, trot out the keys o' the jail ! Come down
peaceable with 'em, an' we won't tetch no one
but Lem Perkins, but if ye don't we'll hang the
hull outfit!"
The crowd gave a wild yell, and surged for-
ward— then stopped. Higgins had swung wide
the barred window and stood in the opening.
" Boys," he called, " I know ye mean business,
an' I know yer too many fer me — but I'm put
here to take keer o' them prisoners, an'- -I'm
a-goin' ter do it — as well as I kin." Then as the
mob gave an angry roar, " Hold on a minute-
I ain't through yit." " Then be blamed quick,"
said Big Jeff, " we ain't here ter parley." " That's
all right," answered the sheriff, " ye can't skeer
me, Jeff Freed, but what I want ter say is that
my wife an' my leetle baby are in here, an' I
want 'em out, an' I want ter see 'em go safe.
They ain't done nothin', an' they ain't got no
business in this deal. What I want ter know is
— kin they go? Speak up, Jeff Freed ; ye've got
a heart in ye — fer I've seen ye show it — don't
act like a dog now. Ye know my wife — kin she
go with her baby ? '
There was a moment's hesitation ; then Big Jeff
spoke : "Yes, she kin; we ain't here to hurt no
wimmen folks ner babies. Where is she ? '
"She's in the kitchen. Go 'round ter the side
/•//A S//AA-/WS //OA'OA\ 3X3
door, an' tell her she's safe — that I sent ye — and
let me see her go with the little un." Big Jeff
turned, went back in the crowd, and presently
the sheriff saw a man go toward the rear of the
house. " They're goin' to let the woman an' the
kid go " growled one — then came hisses and groans.
The sheriff rushed down stairs, but as he
reached Donnelly's side he saw the crowd push-
ing back — then lie saw his wife with her baby
clasped close in her arms. He saw her go
through the narrow path made by the sullen,
restless men, who glared at the baby as he
stretched out his arms and cooed. She is almost
through, and the crowd is closing up once more
— when he hears her cry out and sees the men
turn and gather around her and the burly figure
of Big Jeff. What is it? Fear almost unmans
him. In another instant he would have unbolted
the door and rushed out. Then he sees that the
spirit of the mob is changing.
What had happened ?
As the mother passed Big Jeff, the baby reached
out a tiny hand and clutched the miner's tangled
beard. She strove to loosen the little hand, and
Big Jeff hastily grasped it ; but at the first touch
of that soft hand, he reached out and took the
baby from the mother's arms and held it close
to his heart. A baby ! Oh, God ! He had left
a baby way back yonder. Had he forgotten it
3 84 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
in the mad rush for gold, and the rough life
among the miners?
There arose a hoarse murmur of impatience.
" Put down the brat," shouted a man. It brought
Big Jeff back to the scene around him. He
stood for a moment irresolute — then the liquor
seemed to leave his brain, all the passion was
gone. The love of God entered his heart for the
first time in his life.
He held the baby high above his head.
" Boys," he cried, " look at this yer babby— he's
the sheriff's babby, an the sheriff's all right. He's
a brave man — an' he's too good to die for the
likes o' Lem Perkins. Go home — we ain't a-goin'
to have no hangin' here ter night." A hoarse
cry arose, partly of dissent, partly of sympathy.
" Go home ! I tell ye," thundered Big Jeff.
" I ain't afeared o' man er devil, but they ain't
no hangin' where this kid is ! "
o
Big Jeff was a power. He was their leader.
With one accord the men gathered around the
sobbing mother, and led her back to the jail,
and when Big Jeff held the baby aloft and cried.
" Three cheers for the sheriff an* his babby," a
wild hurrah arose from the men. But the
sheriff, standing beside his wife and child, bowed
his head and lifted up his heart to Gocl, who had
spared him to life and love and honor.
J/C'A'AV/,/-. r\s /../.s T ADDRESS.
President McKinley's Last Address.
ABRIDGED.
Delivered at the Pan-Ann rican Exposition, at Buffalo,
the day before he was assassinated.
" II<)\v near one to the other is every part of
the world. Modern inventions have brought into
close relation widely separated peoples and made
them better acquainted. Geographic and politi-
cal divisions will continue to exisc, but distances
have been effaced. Swift ships and fast trains
are becoming cosmopolitan. They invade fields
which a few years ago were impenetrable. The
world's products are exchanged as never before
and with increasing transportation facilities come
increasing knowledge and larger trade. Prices
are fixed with mathematical precision by supply
and demand. The world's selling prices are reg-
ulated by market and crop reports. We travel
greater distances in a shorter space of time and
with more ease than was ever dreamed of by the
fathers. Isolation is no l»nger possible or desir-
able. The same important news is read, though
in different languages, the same day in all Chris-
tendom. The quick gathering and transmission
of news, like rapid transit, are of recent origin.
and are only made possible by the genius of the
inventor and the courage of the investor, [I
386 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
took a special messenger of the Government,
with every facility known at the time for rapid
travel, nineteen days to go from the city of
Washington to New Orleans with a message to
Gen. Jackson that the war with England had
ceased and a treaty of peace had been signed.
How different now ! We reached Gen. Miles, in
Porto Rico, and he was able through the military
telegraph to stop his army on the firing line with
the message that the United States and Spain
had signed a protocol suspending hostilities. We
knew almost instanter of the first shots fired at
Santiago, and the subsequent surrender of the
Spanish forces was known at Washington within
less than an hour of its consummation. The first
ship of Cervera's fleet had hardly emerged from
that historic harbor when the fact was flashed to
our Capitol, and the swift destruction that fol-
lowed was announced immediately through the
wonderful medium of telegraphy.
" At the beginning of the nineteenth century
there was not a mile of steam railroad on the
globe ; now there are enough miles to make its
circuit many times. Then there was not a line of
electric telegraph ; now we have a vast mileage
traversing all lands and all seas. God and man
have linked the nations together. No nation can
longer be indifferent to any other. And as we
are brought more and more in touch with each
other, the less occasion is there for misunder«.
-:\ r MCKL\LI<:Y*S LAST ADDRESS. 387
standings, and the stronger the disposition, when
we h;ive differences, to adjust them in the court
of arbitration, which is the noblest forum for the
settlement of international disputes.
" My fellow citizens, trade statistics indicate
that this country is in a state of unexampled
prosperity. The figures are almost appalling.
They show that we are utilizing our fields and
forests and mines and that we are furnishing
profitable employment to the millions of work-
ingmen throughout the United States, bringing
comfort and happiness to their homes, and mak-
ing it possible to lay by savings for old age and
disability. That all the people are participating
in this great prosperity is seen in every American
community and shown by the enormous and un-
precedented deposits in our savings banks. Our
duty in the care and security of these deposits
and their safe investment demands the highest
integrity and the best business capacity of those
in charge of these depositories of the people's
earnings. Our capacity to produce has developed
so enormously and our products have so multi-
plied that the problem of more markets requires
our urgent and immediate attention. Only a
broad and enlightened policy will keep what we
have. No other policy will get more. In these
times of marvelous business energy and gain we
ought to be looking to the future, strengthening
the weak places in our industrial and commercial
388 NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
systems, that we may be ready for any storm or
strain.
" By sensible trade arrangements which will
not interrupt our home production we shall ex-
tend the outlets for our increasing surplus. A
system which provides a mutual exchange of
commodities is manifestly essential to the con-
tinued and healthful growth of our export trade.
We must not repose in fancied security that we
can forever sell everything and buy little or noth-
ing. If such a thing were possible it would not
be best for us or for those with whom we deal.
We should take from our customers such of their
products as we can use without harm to our in-
dustries and labor. Reciprocity is the natural
outgrowth of our wonderful industrial develop-
ment under the domestic policy now firmly
established.
" What we produce beyond our domestic con-
sumption must have a vent abroad. The excess
must be relieved through a foreign outlet, and we
should sell everywhere we can and buy wherever
the buying will enlarge our sales and productions,
and thereby make a greater demand for home
labor.
" The period of exclusiveness is past. The ex-
pansion of our trade and commerce is the press-
ing problem. Commercial wars are unprofitable.
A policy of good will and friendly trade relations
will prevent reprisals. Reciprocity treaties are in
PRESIDENT MCKLMJ'.Y'S LAST ADD /v'A.S'.V.
harmony with the spirit of the times; measures
of retaliation arc not. If, perchance, some of our
tariffs are no longer needed for revenue or to en-
courage and protect our industries at home, why
should they not be employed to extend and pro-
mote our markets abroad ? Then, too, we have
inadequate steamship service. New lines of
steamships have already been put in commission
between the Pacific coast ports of the United
Stales and those on the western coasts of Mexico
and Central and South America. These should
be followed up with direct steamship lines be-
tween the western coast of the United States and
South American ports. One of the needs of the
times is direct commercial lines from our vast
fields of production to the fields of consumption
that we have but barely touched. Next in ad-
vantage to having the thing to sell is to have the
•ivevance to carry it to the buyer. \\'e must
encourage our merchant marine. \Ve must have
more ships. They must be under the American
flag, built and manned and owned by Americans.
These will not only be profitable in a commercial
sense, they will be messengers of peace and amity
wherever they go.
" We must build the Isthmian Canal, which
will unite the two oceans and give a straight line
of water communication with the western coasts
of Central and South America and Mexico. The
construction of a Pu< 'ific cable cannot !><• longer
39° NEW PIECES FOR PRIZE SPEAKING.
postponed. In the furtherance of these objects
of national interest and concern you are per-
forming an important part. Let us ever remem-
ber that our interest is in concord, not conflict ;
and that our real eminence rests in the victories
of peace, not those of war. We hope that all
who are represented here may be moved to
higher and nobler effort for their own and the
world's good, and that out of this city may come
not only greater commerce and trade for us all,
but, more essential than these, relations of mu-
tual respect, confidence and friendship which will
deepen and endure. Our earnest prayer is that
God will graciously vouchsafe prosperity, happi-
ness and peace to all our neighbors, and like
blessings to all the peoples and powers of earth."
APR
1929
*
1